Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

are among the easiest to break into. Which is why a lot of people put something in the tracks to block the door from being opened. Glancing through the glass at the bottom of the frame, I’m not surprised to see the Prices have done just that. Looks like an old broom handle. Problematic, but not impossible to deal with. As for the door’s lock, I’ve dispatched dozens like it with ease in the past. If I go in this way, the lock will not be the problem.

“Someone’s coming down the street,” Jar whispers in my ear.

I glance back at the picket fence but don’t hear anything from that direction. “Car?”

“On foot. Sounds like one person. From the west.”

That would be from somewhere beyond the neighbor whose backyard I passed through. I listen for footsteps but can’t hear any.

“How close?”

“A block and a half.”

“Copy.”

Someone out for a midnight stroll, I’m guessing. If the person continues in this direction and glances into the Prices’ backyard, he or she will likely spot me if I stay where I am, so I sneak off the deck and move around its north side, farthest from the street.

A few seconds after I’m hidden, I finally hear the steps. They’re light, either of someone who is small or someone trying to avoid making too much noise.

Since Jar isn’t giving me an update, I’m guessing the walker is near her.

The area I’m in is dark enough that I can look around the end of the deck without worrying too much about being seen.

The steps are getting close, and I should be able to see the person any second.

When I do, the walker is a lot closer to me than I expected. In fact, the person, who is wearing a hooded puffy jacket, is on the sidewalk right next to the Prices’ fence. My next surprise comes when he or she stops at the long gate and looks at the house. I can’t help but think the person knows I’m here. But there’s no way that’s possible.

Nothing to see here, I mentally project toward the walker. Keep it moving.

The person stirs as if hearing me, and for a moment I’m impressed with my telepathic powers, but my self-esteem takes an immediate hit when the walker moves over to the picket fence on the other side of the gate, removes three of the pickets as if they were being held in place by tape, and slips through the fence into the Prices’ backyard.

What the actual hell?

After the pickets are put back in place, I watch the walker approach the house for as long as I can before I pull back out of sight. I don’t hear any steps moving onto the deck, and realize I must be hiding where the walker is headed.

Seriously?

I do the only thing I can and squeeze under the deck, no more than five seconds before the person comes around the end of it.

It’s Evan.

He continues past me for a few more steps, then stops and looks back, as if sensing he’s not alone. When he doesn’t see anyone else, he disappears into the area between the house and the detached garage. Though I can’t see what he’s doing, it sounds like he’s climbing up the side of the building.

I want to take a look, but that would entail sticking my head out from under the deck, so I resist.

When the climbing stops, I hear a faint scraping sound, followed by more movement, and finally a repeat of the scraping. After that, the night goes silent.

“Are you all right?” Jar asks. “Were you seen?”

Evan has probably moved out of earshot but I don’t know for sure, so I click my mic once to let her know I’m okay.

After another fifteen seconds, I allow myself to crawl out from under the deck.

Evan is indeed gone.

A trellis, lightly populated with vines, runs up the side of the house, stopping less than a meter below a pair of second-story windows. These are the only windows on this side of the house. Clearly, Evan climbed up the trellis to one of them. I’m curious about how the structure can hold his weight. It doesn’t appear to be strong enough.

I move in closer and give it soft tug. I’m right. The whole thing should have pulled off the wall before Evan made it halfway up.

So why didn’t it?

I look around. Near the other end of the area, closest to the front side of the Prices’ home, is a covered walkway that leads from a door on the side of the garage to a door on the house. Beyond this is a full-size fence, running from house to garage. In other words, I’m in the most private outside area of the property.

I pull out my phone, put my fingers over the flashlight, and turn the light on. Controlling the beam in this way, I shine it at the house.

Poking out from the lattice at various points are wooden arms about the length of my hand. Each has a notch near its outstretched end, where I’m guessing small potted plants can be hung. There are no pots hanging on any of them right now, but I bet it’s a project one of the family members will take on soon enough.

And by one of the family members, I mean Evan.

How can I know that?

Because I don’t think he’d want anyone else to deal with them.

While most of the hangers are nailed directly to the lattice, six are not. They look like they are, but in fact they’re attached to heavy-duty metal brackets that are screwed into the side of the house. I test one of them. It is solidly in place.

Evan has created a climbing wall, hidden in plain sight.

I’m impressed. I mean, really impressed.

I turn off my light and look up. The window straight above me leads to the corner room in the back of the house, and has to be the one he went in. Which I take to mean it’s