“I will.”
Jo ended the call and stared at Sabrina’s house until it went dark. Then she drove back to her hotel.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, Jo was up early again. She’d only slept for four hours, and it reminded her of some of her missions—long days with little rest. She left the hotel and stopped for food and water at a convenience store, then swung by a fast-food joint for a quick breakfast. While she ate, she googled pawn shops and found one close by that was open twenty-four hours. She drove there and purchased small, military-grade binoculars. Before dawn, she was watching Sabrina’s house.
The morning went similarly to the day before, with some of the same neighbors leaving at approximately the same times. A light shone through the side window of Sabrina’s house at six, but this time she didn’t stay at home for nearly as long.
A few minutes before eight, the Lexus emerged from the garage, and Jo followed Sabrina to the same Starbucks she’d visited the previous day. At this time of morning, the drive-through line was longer, and once Sabrina had her order, she headed to Highway 75 and went south. Traffic was heavy, and Jo easily kept the Lexus in view as they made a slow trek into downtown Dallas. Sabrina drove to the building where National Bank was located and disappeared into the underground parking garage. Jo found a metered space on the street, paid, then loitered at a cement planter near the building doors, where she could see through windows to both the bank entrance and the parking garage entrance. A few minutes later, Sabrina walked across the building lobby and into the bank. Right after that, Rico entered, followed by Doug. None of them seemed to notice Jo. Some of the other bank employees showed up, too. All appeared to be business as usual.
Jo waited until the bank opened, making sure Sabrina was at her desk. Then she left and returned to North Dallas.
She parked around the corner from Sabrina’s house and called the bank, asking for the woman. When Sabrina answered, Jo mumbled, “Wrong number” and ended the call.
Next, she surveilled the neighborhood. Now armed with binoculars, she was able to study Sabrina’s house better, and those on either side. Both were quiet, with no activity. Next, Jo studied every house on the block, looking for surveillance devices on eaves or doorbell cameras. She thought a next-door neighbor had a doorbell camera, as well as a house across the street. She didn’t see signs of surveillance equipment on Sabrina’s house.
One next-door neighbor left. Sabrina’s house remained still. With the binoculars, Jo could see through the front window. She never saw anyone inside. Finally, she drove the surrounding streets, assuring herself that there was no suspicious activity. Then she pulled into a space at a small park. She left the binoculars under her seat—too conspicuous at this time of the day to take them with her—but she had her knife in her pocket. She got out and acted as if she were just taking a walk, but she headed toward the alley behind Sabrina’s house.
When no one was looking, Jo stole into the alley, staying low, keeping her head down. It was a weekday, and most people would be at work, the children at school. A dog sat near a doghouse in one back yard, and he gave her one bark but didn’t seem overly interested.
She continued until she reached a dumpster, from which she could see the back of Sabrina’s house and her yard. Jo listened, only hearing the occasional car on a neighboring street. Then she approached Sabrina’s house, letting herself through an alley gate. She looked for surveillance cameras but didn’t see any. Hopefully, by the time anyone knew about her presence, or saw what she was about to attempt, or if Sabrina reported her, Jo would have her answers and could explain her actions. She walked up to the back door as if she knew what she was doing. Over the years, she’d found that if you acted like your behavior was normal, nothing unusual, people didn’t tend to question you.
She eyed the yards on either side. Both were empty. She knocked on Sabrina’s back door and waited. When no one answered, she tried the knob. Locked. She moved to the kitchen window and glanced inside. The room had stark white walls, oak cabinets, granite countertops, and a table in a breakfast nook. Jo pushed on the window, and to her surprise, it gave. Sabrina hadn’t locked it.
Jo again glanced right and left, then pushed up the window sash and darted through. She was agile, still in shape even though she hadn’t been in the military in over a year. The brief climb ended with her on her hands and knees on the counter. She dropped to the floor, crouched down, and listened.
Silence.
Jo stood straighter and peeked out the window to make sure no one had seen her. Then she began her search, using a rag from the sink when she touched anything so she wouldn’t leave fingerprints. She checked behind pictures, and in other nooks and crannies, assuring herself there were no surveillance cameras, no nannie-cams. The kitchen was nothing remarkable, nothing on the walls, no smells lingering in the air. Sabrina was a neat person, the sink empty, the countertops clean. The refrigerator didn’t hold much, some takeout containers, salad items, and condiments. Some frozen meats and dinners in the freezer. Then Jo found an envelope on a small desk near the back door. She looked inside. It was empty except for a note that said, “Final payment.”
For what? Jo thought.
She checked cabinets and drawers, not sure exactly what she was looking for, just feeling her gut was right about Sabrina. Something didn’t add up with the woman.
Jo went into the living room next, careful to stay low so no one could see her through the front window. She made quick work of the room, checking under couch and loveseat cushions, looking in the drawers of two end tables. Sabrina didn’t own a lot, just a few knickknacks here and there. A large TV hung against one wall.
Jo moved on to a bathroom, a spare bedroom, and then the main suite. Chest of drawers and closets held the usual assortment of items a person might keep. Sabrina’s closet was full of nice outfits and shoes. There were no surveillance cameras anywhere. Jo checked a small laundry room with a washer and dryer last, then stood there with the dank odor of the space around her, thinking. Maybe she’d been wrong about Sabrina.
But what if she wasn’t?
She headed back into the kitchen for a second search, not wanting to take too long. She quickly checked the house, ending in the front hallway. She looked down at the floor and saw a few white specks on the dark hardwood. Bending down, she touched one of them. Paint flecks. She hadn’t seen that before. Jo stood straight and looked up. Over her head was an attic opening, and it appeared it might have been accessed recently. The cover—a rectangular piece of drywall fitted into a frame—was slightly askew.
Jo went into the kitchen for a chair, returned, and placed it underneath the attic opening. She stood on it, just able to reach the attic cover. She pushed it up and over, then reached her fingers to the edge. She couldn’t feel anything, so she hopped up and grabbed the edge, hauling herself up. She held herself with one arm, then reached for her phone and turned on the flashlight app. Her arm strained with her weight as she shined the flashlight around. She didn’t have to look long. Nestled in insulation, right by the attic opening, was a small metal box. Jo turned off the flashlight, shoved her phone in her pocket, then grabbed the box and dropped to the chair. After a quick pause to sneeze, she sat on the chair and opened the box.
Inside was a Ziploc bag full of hundred-dollar bills. They weren’t wrapped, didn’t appear to be consecutively numbered, probably not marked. Jo carefully opened the bag, then began counting the money. She was in a hurry, but she had to know how much was there. When she finished, she stared at the stacks on the floor.
One hundred thousand.
What would Sabrina be doing with that much cash? Jo tried to reason with herself, tried to make up all the excuses she could for the woman. Sabrina could have a distrust of banks, even though she worked at one. But keeping that much cash at her house? She could have just sold something big, but again, why receive a payment that large in cash?
Jo shook her head. A person didn’t tend to have that much money around unless they were doing something illegal. She thought about the man Sabrina had met at the mall, and the envelope he’d given her.
Had he paid her for something? For assisting in the bank robbery?
It was pure speculation on Jo’s part, and there was only one way that she could get answers. She had to talk to Sabrina.
Jo used her phone to take pictures of the money and the box, then stuffed the money back in the bag and put it into the metal box, which she returned to its place in the attic. She put the cover back down and returned the chair to the kitchen. Everything in its place.
After a quick walk-through of the house to make sure she hadn’t left any other signs of her presence, she opened the kitchen window and crawled outside, reaching back with the cloth to wipe off any prints. Then she eased the sash down, stuffed the rag in her pocket, and sneaked away through the yard.
Back in the car, she ate some trail mix. She didn’t figure Sabrina would be home for hours, so she spent the day researching the other bank employees. She found where each one lived and checked their houses, but didn’t see any signs they were under surveillance, nor did she see anything suspicious. She drove downtown and watched the bank as well, never seeing Sabrina leave. At four, Jo was parked down the block from Sabrina’s house, waiting for the woman to come home from work.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The orchestra played loudly as JD Babineaux danced with his wife, Lydia. She wore a stunning blue full-length dress, her blond, highlighted hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup so perfect an artist could have applied it. As he gazed into eyes as blue as her outfit, he was mesmerized by how such a beautiful and kind woman had fallen for him so many years ago. Lydia had come from a good family, and he had been a rough-and-tumble oilman. But they’d bonded the first time they’d met, talking for hours into the night. He’d known the second he laid eyes on her that he was going to marry her, and he kept at her until she’d seen through his hard exterior, to his potential.
And he’d lived up to that potential. After his start as an offshore rig worker, wise investments had allowed him to start his own energy exploration and production company, and now he was worth several hundred million dollars. He worked hard, made all the right connections, and it was finally paying off in the way he always wanted. His dream of getting into politics was in sight, which was why they were at this party at the governor’s palatial estate away from his residence in Austin.
“What’re you thinking about?” Lydia murmured as they continued to dance.
A waltz, he thought. Who danced the waltz anymore? It was what the governor wanted, though, and everyone did seem to be enjoying themselves. After dinner, there would be better music.
“Just thinking about how far we’ve come.”
Lydia smiled at the lieutenant governor’s wife, who was dancing with her husband nearby. JD smiled as well, not just for the other couple, but for Lydia. She handled herself well, knew how to schmooze people, but she never made it seem that way. She was actually a very genuine person, cared about everyone, and that came through. She was an incredible asset to him, not just for his oil career, but for his burgeoning political ambitions as well. Which was why she didn’t know anything about his other peccadilloes, his . . . how should he think of it? His alternative tastes in the bedroom. He smiled again.
“What?” Lydia asked as the waltz ended.
