Page 121 of Never Never

No one speaks. We’re all waiting for her.

“That’s the house,” Tink says. “Two doors down, the long flat one. It’s been⁠—”

“Four minutes,” Blue says, looking at her screen.

“Four minutes since the last ping. They only update when somebody’s phone walks past them, so it could be five, could be⁠—”

“So let’s get in there,” I say. Interrupt. “Ram the gates, vault the fence, buzz the intercom and say we’re DoorDash⁠—”

Everybody looks at me.

And I shut the fuck up. Standing there with my hands still half-clapped together like an idiot. Because—obviously. Obviously, she’s got what’s going on here. Dates, directions, details, right-hand man shit.

I used to say that as a joke. Turns out it was a joke about me.

I let my hands drop.

“Never mind,” I say. “I’m listening.”

Between jimmying the lock and clipping the wires, the gate takes Blue about nine seconds.

We go single file up the side of the drive, where the hedge makes a dark little corridor, the only light from Tink’s phone screen turned down to the absolute dimmest it can be and still watch the tracker dot.

I haven’t been in a lot of rich people’s houses. Krye’s, mostly, which is more McMansion than anything.

This is not that. This is a long low house, two stories and squared off as a shoebox, with a lap pool running the whole length of it that’s lit from underneath so it blankets the entire yard in that wobbly blue light. Past the wall at the end of the lawn there’s black water, the Marina in the distance, and then out, way out on the right, a mile maybe, the Jolly Roger and her waving spotlights cutting through haze.

“Tink.” Kit, at my elbow, under the hum of the pool filter. “What exactly are we⁠—”

Then the sound.

It’s sharp. Grating. A stabbing, creaking, broken-hinge noise from up and off to the left⁠—

“Is that—” Fox starts.

“Yeah.” Tink straightens a little. “That’s Nana.”

“That’s a dog?” I whisper. In God knows however many weeks of living on top of that creature, I don’t think I’d ever noticed her bark.

“Yeah.” Fox has gone completely still beside me with his mask half up, staring at the second floor. “Which window?”

It isn’t hard. Second floor, right over the deep end of the pool, there’s a window cracked. It’s got curtains, and they’re closed, but they’re also ruffly and half-transparent with a pinky glow coming through them.

It’s a girl’s room.

And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a trellis underneath it.

It’s one of those white lattice things with a vine growing up it. Built to hold a few ounces’ worth of wispy little flowers, not a hundred and sixty pounds of amateur kidnapper.

Well, good thing I’ve had plenty of practice climbing stuff I shouldn’t.

Except that Tink is one step ahead of me. Literally.

Jesus. “Wait.” She’s fast; I have to jump to grab the tail of her jacket. But she looks down and waits.

“What?” she hisses.

“Don’t—not you,” I hiss back. “Not first. In case someone…”