Read Online The White Gold Score (A Daniel Faust Novella) by Craig Schaefer - Free Book Online Page B

from, and he’ll know the only thing taken was the evidence of his crime. Meaning someone knows what he’s done, and all he can do is wait for the consequences to descend. And wait. And wait.” An amused smile played on her lips. “That’s the sort of fear that could torment a man to madness. I
like
it.”
    “It’s not the payback he deserves, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, guys like this always come to a bad end sooner or later. He’ll get too greedy, piss off the wrong coke dealer, and eat a shotgun in some back alley, I guarantee it. Keep walking. I want to overshoot the house a little.”
    We strolled past the long, black, and winding drive, a murky ribbon leading up to a three-car garage, and past the next house. Perfect dark ranches on either side, his neighbors out for the night or snug in their beds. I didn’t expect to be making any noise, but a little breathing room wouldn’t hurt.
    We kept low, scurrying across the rolling lawn and circling Dino’s garage. If I had to break into a house I didn’t have time to scout properly, smart money was always on the garage: you wouldn’t believe how many people left the door between their garage and the house unlocked, figuring the garage door was enough to keep them safe.
    I checked for a side window, a back door, any other way in beside the big rolling doors out front, but Dino’s garage was sealed up tight. No luck. We skirted around to the backyard. Windows looked in on a darkened kitchen big enough for a family of six, done up in pristine stainless steel. Garlic cloves and copper pans dangled from a rustic iron grate suspended above a granite-topped island. Craning my neck, I could see the oblong white plastic box of an alarm panel not far from the door. And the tiny green light saying it wasn’t armed.
    “He’s locked up for the night,” I said, giving the back door’s knob an experimental tug, “but I’m betting he’s one of those guys who only turns on his alarm when he leaves the house. That makes our job a hell of a lot easier.”
    Caitlin frowned, eyes fixed on the kitchen beyond the glass.
    “Given that he works with narcotics peddlers,” she said, “he’s likely armed.”
    “That’s fine.” I fished an oilcloth bindle from my hip pocket, untying it and spreading out an array of picks in snug little holsters. “Unless he actually goes to the range and puts in training time, it’s not a big worry. Too many people think a gun is a magic talisman that makes burglars disappear.
Buying
the steel isn’t enough; you’ve gotta actually know what you’re doing with it.”
    Unless he’s got a shotgun in there
, I didn’t bother adding. Shotguns were a dangerous equalizer, especially in a house with long, narrow hallways. Nothing I ever wanted to be standing downrange from. Still, I was feeling confident tonight.
    And maybe I was showing off for Caitlin, just a little. I crouched down and worked the lock, gripping a pick and a tension wrench between my fingertips, concentrating on the feel of the tumblers.
    “One thing’s a lot more dangerous than a gun,” I whispered, feeling a sliver-thin tumbler catch and roll over for me.
    “A cluster of damned souls, bound together inside a suit of iron armor and driven mad with hunger, compelled to stalk and slay anyone who sets foot inside your lair?”
    I blinked. The tumbler slipped.
    “Or perhaps,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “a curse that melts the skin on your bones then causes it to reharden, trapping you forever inside the twisted, calcified husk of your own body?”
    “Okay,” I said. “True. Both of those are true. But I’m talking about normal, average, non-insane houses.”
    “Oh. In that case, I’m not certain.”
    “
Dogs
.” I nodded over my shoulder at the empty, manicured lawn. “Last thing I ever want to see on a B-and-E job is any sign of a dog. Always check the yard and the kitchen for that. Take a peep through the window. You see any bowls,