Page 30 of The Accomplice
He killed for love. And there was a lot more killing to be done.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KATE
Harry pulled his tiny, convertible, racing-green sportscar to a halt at the gates to Old Meadow Road at eight fifty-nine in the morning. He was a good driver, thought Kate. He needed to be. This was a European car, probably British. It had wood on the dash. Real wood. And the roof leaked. The tires were too small, the engine was too loud, and with the low profile it felt like Kate had just spent half an hour on the freeway with her ass on a skateboard strapped to a lawnmower engine. Harry had told her the car was vintage. A classic. Kate had grown up in New Jersey. And in Jersey, a car being described as a classic was another way of saying the exhaust was about to fall off the damn thing, if the chassis didn’t break in half first.
There were only a few protestors outside the private road, and they hadn’t seen this car before, so they didn’t give Kate and Harry any hassle. Kate opened the electronic gate with the key fob Carrie had given her last night, and Harry drove through and then on to Carrie’s house.
Kate got out of the car as soon as Harry cranked up the handbrake. It was a two seater, but there was a small space between the back seat and the trunk. He reached over the back of the seat and retrieved a piece of two-by-four. Harry got out of the car, then bent down and wedged the length of wood between the brake pedal and the seat.
‘If the handbrake doesn’t work, then why crank it on ?’ asked Kate.
‘It makes me feel better,’ said Harry.
‘How old is this car ?’
‘It’s about as old as I am,’ he said.
‘Thatold ?’ she said, with a smile.
‘Apart from the handbrake, this car is in perfect working order. Just like its owner. It’sfast,chic and it handles well.’
Harry took a while getting up. One hand on his lower back, which had been giving him problems lately. Kate came around to his side of the car and gently laced her arm over his to steady him as he rose. He didn’t complain. Instead, he gave her one of his smiles when he got fully upright. Harry was still a good-looking man, and he was charming, but it was the kind of smile a father gives to his daughter.
‘Fast, huh,’ said Kate.
‘We go a lot faster when we’re going downhill these days.’
She retrieved the files from the trunk and together they made their way toward the front door of Carrie Miller’s house.
‘How do you want to handle this ?’ she asked.
‘I was about to ask you the same question. This is your case. I’m just the consultant.’
‘Come on, Harry. You were a judge for twenty years. How would you do it ?’
He considered this for a moment, said, ‘I think we go slow. Let’s get her talking first. Easy, open questions. When she’s loosened up, we can get to the more difficult stuff.’
As they reached the front door, they realized it was open. Just an inch or two of a gap. They paused. It was likely Carrie Miller had seen them pull into the driveway from her kitchen. She probably went straight to the front door and opened it for them, like she had the day before.
But neither Harry nor Kate touched the door.
Not yet.
‘Mrs. Miller ? Carrie ?’ called Kate.
They listened. Heard nothing.
Harry called out this time. Waited.
Silence.
From his jacket, Harry slid an old Colt 1911 from the worn leather shoulder strap. Racked a round into the chamber, held the gun low and pushed the door with his finger tips. It swung all the way open. Harry raised his hand, indicating that Kate should stay outside.
‘I’ll be behind you,’ she said.
Harry tutted, shook his head, then stepped into the house. Inside, there was no sound from a radio or TV. Kate called out. No answer. No one in the living room, and no one in the kitchen. Harry moved quicker now toward the stairs. A sense of urgency rising in them both. They called out again. Nothing in return. The bedrooms and bathrooms were empty. No sign of a struggle. Nothing out of place. Bed made neatly. A set of white silk pajamas were laid on the pillow.
