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

I open the alarm detection app on my phone again and reconnect to the Prices’ system. One of the options on the app allows me to see a log of alarm activity. The last thing listed in the system is that it was armed at 9:04 p.m. (FYI, my software prevents the log from noting any activation or deactivation that I might do.)

Either Chuckie deemed it unnecessary to put sensors on the second-floor windows, or Evan has found a way to turn his off without raising suspicions.

I admire his handiwork for a moment longer before turning to the garage. I’ve been here longer than I planned, but still have a few things I’d like to do before I go. I move over to the garage’s side door and run an alarm check. I discover a contact sensor on the door, another on the roll-up door out front, and a motion sensor that I’m guessing covers a majority of the interior. The three sensors are on their own node, meaning they can be turned on or off independently from the house. I deactivate the garage node and pick the locks on the side door.

It’s a two-car garage, half the area taken up by a workbench and boxes, and the other half by a current model Ford Premium Fastback Mustang. I believe its color is officially called Twister Orange. It is a vehicle meant to be seen. The kind driven by hotshots and glory hogs and men who think more of themselves than they should.

We know from DMV records that the Prices have two registered vehicles, both in Chuckie’s name. They are the Winnebago and a five-year-old Ford Explorer. I’m betting the Explorer is used by Kate, and that her husband takes whatever car from his dealership he’s interested in.

I turn off the car’s alarm, place a combo listening/tracking bug underneath the driver’s seat, and exit the garage, resetting everything to the way it was.

I consider planting some of our bugs near windows to pick up conversations inside, but as I said, our supply is limited, so I settle for using a single bug next. Best would be the kind designed to pick up voices through glass, but the ones I have with me are a more general type.

I choose a spot on the kitchen window that’s hidden from view from the inside by a curtain, and from the outside by the lip of the planter box hanging from the sill. The bug is tiny so that’ll help, too. I just hope it works the way we need it to.

When I finish, I creep over to the fence where Evan passed through.

The kid has some serious skills. Whether you push or pull on the pickets I saw him remove, they feel nailed in place like all the others. What you have to do is slide them up about two centimeters and then move them away from the fence. He’s cut slots into the backs that are wide enough at the bottom for a nail head to fit through, but above that is a narrow channel only the nail’s shaft can traverse. He’s even put a dummy nail head on the outside of the picket and painted over it, to match the look of the regular ones.

If he was maybe six or seven years older, he’d make a prime candidate for being my apprentice.

I use Evan’s exit, put the pickets back in place, and move across the street to where Jar waits.

“Explorer?” I whisper.

“Taken care of.”

Along with keeping an eye on my back, one of Jar’s tasks was to see if the Prices’ Explorer was parked nearby, and if so, do to it what I did to the Mustang.

“The person who crawled through the fence—it was Evan, was it not?” she asks.

I nod and tell her about how he gets in and out of his room. Which reminds me there is one more bug I should install before we go.

I place the video bug in the tree directly across the street from the RV gate, and aim it so that its field of view includes the modified portion of the fence. This way we will know if and when Evan goes out again, and if I’m in the area, I can use the opportunity to sneak into his house the way he snuck out.

It’s been quite the night and I’m exhausted. We return to the truck and drive back to the Travato. Less than ten minutes later, I’m asleep.

Chapter Ten

Remember that guy at the fire last night? The one Olsen called Mr. Mygatt?

Guess what?

He’s not only the publisher of the Mercy Sentinel, he’s also one of its reporters. Am I pleased to find this out? I’m sure you know the answer to that.

The story of the farmhouse fire is front-page news, at least on the Sentinel’s website. Jar found it while I was still sleeping this morning. She’d been curious if there was more information about the incident.

There is, but there’s so much more, too.

THE MERCY ARSONIST STRIKES AGAIN

LOCAL MAN INJURED

Fire brought down another house just outside Mercy last night. This time it was the former residence of the Baldwin family, located on North Edwards Road. The property’s current owner is Gage-Trent Farming. According to fire chief Davis Leonard, the fire appears to have been started not long after sunset.

When asked if the blaze was the work of the Mercy Arsonist, Leonard would only say that investigators will determine the cause later. But the similarities to past incidents are impossible to ignore. Not only did the house burn, so did a barn and a horse stable, the only other buildings on the property. Like with the other fires, the buildings were not in use.

Local business owner Harlan Gale and his sister, Carla Wright, were the first to spot the fire, and rushed to see if anyone needed help. Gale entered the house to make sure no one was inside. While there, he was overcome by smoke and collapsed.

Mercy newcomers Matthew Dane