Chapter 6: Playing Santa

I’M SITTING IN A COFFEE SHOP in Madison Park watching the locals come in for a Sunday morning coffee and newspaper. I’m lucky there’s a connection. I blend in perfectly with the surroundings here—just another Sunday morning blogger. I can see three other laptops from where I’m sitting.

I’ll bet none of them got here directly from breaking and entering, though.

I’ve got to break this habit.

Breaking and entering

I got up at five after way too little sleep. The coffee buzz from yesterday afternoon kept me up past two. But I didn’t wake up puking my guts out, unlike Friday.

I got into my cat burglar outfit, which is remarkably like my running clothes—black leggings, black hoodie, running shoes. I chose a short brunette bob wig for my hair of the day, or at least the morning. Then I drove to Madison Park and parked my car at a public access point. I focused on looking and acting like any other early morning runner, only there weren’t many running in the dark at six on a foggy morning. Fog is good. It means it’s marginally warmer this morning than it’s been the past few days. It also means I become invisible much more quickly when I’m headed away from someplace or someone. After I’d warmed up, I took only the tools that fit in my oversized waist pack beside the backup CDs.

It was about a mile to the access point I’d identified a couple of weeks ago. A path led from the water’s edge on Lake Washington up to the Barnett house. Since I was coming up from the beach this time instead of the front drive, it was much easier to slip up to the house without a chance of being observed.

The last time I was here, I didn’t care if Brenda found out or not. I just disabled the alarm system and left the door to the garage wide open. This time, though, I didn’t want to raise suspicions when she got out of jail. I took the second story entrance. In my brief visit two weeks ago, I noticed a balcony off the master bedroom above the kitchen. It overlooks the pool and the lake. I had also discovered there were no motion detectors and only the lower level doors and windows had alarms.

I hoisted myself over the railing on the deck, having first checked carefully to be sure no one was coming up the jogging trail. It took only thirty seconds to pick the lock on the French doors and get into the bedroom. I closed them behind me and stood looking around the room.

I rushed my last visit, focusing all my energy on Simon’s office where I found the backup disks. I was here today, only to return said disks so certain law enforcement officers could find them. But with Bradley dead and Brenda in jail, I had leisure time to see if I could leave anything else suspicious where Jordan could find it. I had no idea what it would be.

The bedroom was disgusting. A laundry hamper was full and there were dirty clothes on the floor around it. An elaborate bath was marred by makeup scattered around on the sink without particular regard for order. I could see a huge bottle of lilac-scented toilet water. The scent in the room made my eyes water and I’m not nearly as sensitive to scents as Dag is. Was.

A bedside table had an open drawer with various adult toys shoved into it. The bed was unmade and velvet ropes hung from the corners to the floor. The bolsters for the bed were lying on the floor in a corner and the spread lay in a pile at the foot of the bed. The walk-in closet was crammed so full of clothes and shoes you couldn’t walk into it. No matter what image Brenda attempted to portray in public, the bedroom painted a picture of a lazy, messy person. Brenda was a slob. I headed for the stairs down, keeping a careful eye out in case I had missed a motion detector.

Someone—housekeeper?—had cleaned the rest of the house. Apparently, the bedroom was Brenda’s private domain and she didn’t allow even the housekeepers in it. I’d rethink that rule if I was her.

I continued to the office and carefully replaced the disks in the exact place I’d found them. I was trusting that Jordan would arrive with his search warrant soon after Brenda got home from the hearing Monday and she wouldn’t have time to look for the backups again. Just in case, I’d downloaded everything onto the servers on Friday.

I searched the desk for any other evidence of Brenda’s wrong-doing but to no avail. I looked everyplace I could think of for a safe but also found nothing. The house outside the bedroom was so immaculate and spotless, you’d think no one lived there. There were no dirty dishes and no clean ones in the dishwasher. No food in the refrigerator either—not a quart of milk or stick of butter. It looked like the house had been cleaned for sale but the owner still occupied one room. I was glad I’d slipped surgical gloves on before I entered. Dag used them to protect sensitive equipment when he disassembled a computer. I used them so I wouldn’t leave fingerprints. In a house this clean, one solo set of prints that matched me would be incriminating.

I checked every drawer in the dining room sideboard, the linen closet, the utility room. If there was a safe in this house, I knew not where. I finally gave up and headed back to my exit through the bedroom. I opened the drawer on the other side of the bed from the toy drawer but it contained little other than reading material and pencils. I glanced back at the drawer full of toys and it hit me. This drawer was less than half the depth of the toy drawer, yet from the front it looked the same. I carefully removed the contents of the drawer and pulled it out of its guide.

It definitely had a false bottom and when I shook it gently, I could hear things sliding around in it. I turned the drawer over and saw a little twist screw on the bottom like you would see on the battery cover of a laptop. I used a penny from my pocket to twist it open and the lid came off. I’d hit the jackpot.