Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Josh Lanyon
museum that way?
Only four people had the access code for the outside perimeter: Donnelly, museum trustee Dennis Montero, Cole, and himself.
At least ... only four people were supposed to have the access code.
He shoved his feet into a pair of Vans and went down to the kitchen, turning on the overhead light to examine the back door. Sure enough, a perfect circle had been etched into the glass pane beside the inside doorknob. The circle must have been ready to pop out, because as Peter touched the doorknob to reassure himself it was still locked, the oval of glass fell out onto the bricks and shattered.
It glinted like broken pieces of moon on the terrace.
The hair prickled on Peter's neck. Close call. Very close . What would have happened if he hadn't woken when he did?
But what sense did breaking into the bungalow make?
He let himself out the front and ran down the long camellia-lined drive to the gatehouse. A marked patrol car was already sitting outside the tall iron gates, exhaust turning red in the glare of its taillights. Donnelly was talking to two uniformed officers. He spotted Peter.
"They're saying you called in a prowler, Mr. Killian?” he asked as Peter reached them.
Peter nodded, out of breath from his jog. “I tried ringing down here. Why didn't you pick up?"
Donnelly looked taken aback. “I guess I didn't hear the phone ‘coz I was standing out here."
Peter turned to the cop who was listening to their exchange. “He—the prowler—ran toward the back of the property."
"Do you have a description of this prowler?"
Peter resisted the temptation to point out that the prowler would probably be the guy running like a bat out of hell. “Big. He was dressed in dark clothes and wearing a dark ski mask."
The second cop nodded and said to Donnelly, “You want to open these gates and we'll go check it out?"
"There's a gate in the back leading to the old fire access road. He'll have gone out that way."
"I'll take the front, Ramirez, you take the back,” the cop said to his partner.
Ramirez nodded and went back to the patrol car as Donnelly moved to open the automatic gates.
Peter stood shivering while the tall gates slid slowly open. “He tried to get in the back door of the bungalow."
Donnelly said, “He must have thought nobody was home. Probably thought you were still in the hospital."
"Probably.” Yes. That made sense, didn't it? Peter wished he felt convinced.
The gates open, the uniformed officer came through and followed them to the little security cart that Donnelly used. Peter grabbed a seat in the back and they shot away up the road, the cart engine humming as though they were off on a pleasure jaunt.
They pulled up outside the bungalow so Peter could get out. Donnelly eased his girth out of the little cart and led the second cop, Officer Simon, across the grass and down the hillside to the grotto.
Peter let himself back in the cottage and put the coffeemaker on. If he was going to be awake for the rest of the night, he might as well be wide awake.
Donnelly and Simon returned within ten minutes, and Peter led them around the back to see where the intruder had broken the glass.
"The glass is on the outside of the door.” The cop was giving Peter a strange look.
"It fell out when I touched the doorknob."
"Why would you do that, sir?"
It took Peter a few seconds to understand what Officer Simon was getting at. He felt himself change color in a wave of irrational guilt. “I wanted to make sure the door was still locked. It was ... reaction. If I'd stopped to think, I wouldn't have touched it, obviously."
The cop looked noncommittal. He proceeded to take all Peter's information. By the time they had finished, his partner had rejoined them.
"No sign of anyone,” Ramirez said.
"I didn't fake a break-in,” Peter said. “Someone tried to get in here tonight."
"No one is suggesting you faked a break-in, sir,” Simon said woodenly.
"What'd I say?” Ramirez looked around for
Only four people had the access code for the outside perimeter: Donnelly, museum trustee Dennis Montero, Cole, and himself.
At least ... only four people were supposed to have the access code.
He shoved his feet into a pair of Vans and went down to the kitchen, turning on the overhead light to examine the back door. Sure enough, a perfect circle had been etched into the glass pane beside the inside doorknob. The circle must have been ready to pop out, because as Peter touched the doorknob to reassure himself it was still locked, the oval of glass fell out onto the bricks and shattered.
It glinted like broken pieces of moon on the terrace.
The hair prickled on Peter's neck. Close call. Very close . What would have happened if he hadn't woken when he did?
But what sense did breaking into the bungalow make?
He let himself out the front and ran down the long camellia-lined drive to the gatehouse. A marked patrol car was already sitting outside the tall iron gates, exhaust turning red in the glare of its taillights. Donnelly was talking to two uniformed officers. He spotted Peter.
"They're saying you called in a prowler, Mr. Killian?” he asked as Peter reached them.
Peter nodded, out of breath from his jog. “I tried ringing down here. Why didn't you pick up?"
Donnelly looked taken aback. “I guess I didn't hear the phone ‘coz I was standing out here."
Peter turned to the cop who was listening to their exchange. “He—the prowler—ran toward the back of the property."
"Do you have a description of this prowler?"
Peter resisted the temptation to point out that the prowler would probably be the guy running like a bat out of hell. “Big. He was dressed in dark clothes and wearing a dark ski mask."
The second cop nodded and said to Donnelly, “You want to open these gates and we'll go check it out?"
"There's a gate in the back leading to the old fire access road. He'll have gone out that way."
"I'll take the front, Ramirez, you take the back,” the cop said to his partner.
Ramirez nodded and went back to the patrol car as Donnelly moved to open the automatic gates.
Peter stood shivering while the tall gates slid slowly open. “He tried to get in the back door of the bungalow."
Donnelly said, “He must have thought nobody was home. Probably thought you were still in the hospital."
"Probably.” Yes. That made sense, didn't it? Peter wished he felt convinced.
The gates open, the uniformed officer came through and followed them to the little security cart that Donnelly used. Peter grabbed a seat in the back and they shot away up the road, the cart engine humming as though they were off on a pleasure jaunt.
They pulled up outside the bungalow so Peter could get out. Donnelly eased his girth out of the little cart and led the second cop, Officer Simon, across the grass and down the hillside to the grotto.
Peter let himself back in the cottage and put the coffeemaker on. If he was going to be awake for the rest of the night, he might as well be wide awake.
Donnelly and Simon returned within ten minutes, and Peter led them around the back to see where the intruder had broken the glass.
"The glass is on the outside of the door.” The cop was giving Peter a strange look.
"It fell out when I touched the doorknob."
"Why would you do that, sir?"
It took Peter a few seconds to understand what Officer Simon was getting at. He felt himself change color in a wave of irrational guilt. “I wanted to make sure the door was still locked. It was ... reaction. If I'd stopped to think, I wouldn't have touched it, obviously."
The cop looked noncommittal. He proceeded to take all Peter's information. By the time they had finished, his partner had rejoined them.
"No sign of anyone,” Ramirez said.
"I didn't fake a break-in,” Peter said. “Someone tried to get in here tonight."
"No one is suggesting you faked a break-in, sir,” Simon said woodenly.
"What'd I say?” Ramirez looked around for