the driveways on the street were vacant as well, all the two income families at work.
Kate adjusted the lens and got a couple of shots of the duplex, the numbers of the address outlined clearly in large wooden letters next to the door. When ten minutes passed with no traffic coming down the street in either direction and no curtains moving in the windows of the houses facing the street, Kate started the Blazer, drove around the block once just to be sure and returned to Dickson to pull into the right-hand carport. She switched off the engine and got out of the car, the camera in one hand, closing the door behind Mutt. She didn't hesitate and she didn't look around to see if anyone was watching, having discovered early in her career that as long as you didn't look actively furtive, people tended to ignore you. Most of the time they were so preoccupied with their own cheating husbands, delinquent children and overdrawn checking accounts that they didn't see you at all.
She mounted the step to the porch and tried the handle. Locked. Without pause she turned and went around the house. The chain-link fence had a gate, unlocked. In the back, the fence divided the yard in half. Each unit had a sliding glass door leading onto a small, shared deck. She climbed the steps to the deck and tried the right-hand door. It slid open smoothly. Mutt stuck her nose in and curled her lip. "Stay," Kate told Mutt, who looked relieved.
The sliding door opened into the living room and it was immediately obvious that Jane was not a dedicated housekeeper. The coffee table was lost beneath a pile of magazines and catalogues that spilled onto the floor. A plastic basket of unfolded clothes sat on one end of the couch.
A television with a VCR on top of it and a cable box on top of the VCR dominated the room. Facing it was a recliner. On the floor next to the recliner was a plate with a gnawed pork chop bone on it. It went with the dust balls in every corner, the cigarette butts heaped in several ashtrays and the stained and matted carpet. The smell pretty much matched the look of the place.
Kate, who gave the word "neatnik" a whole new meaning, wondered if the squalor was due to Jane's natural talent or if she lived this way to spite Jack, making his property as unattractive as possible to prospective buyers. It had been Jack's home originally; he had moved out when they split up and had let her stay in the duplex rent-free so that Johnny would have a decent home with a yard to grow up in. Jane had repaid his generosity by contesting the title to the duplex when he had finally tried to put it up for sale. That case was on hold while the custody battle was being fought. Kate wondered how Jane was paying her lawyers. The litigation habit was an expensive one to maintain, and although Jane had a good job with the federal government, Kate was pretty sure it didn't pay that well. No job did.
She picked a fastidious path through the detritus to the door that led into the kitchen. The sink was stacked with dirty dishes. The table looked promising, piled high with mail, some opened, some not. Kate went past it and into the hallway that ended in the front door. She unlocked and opened the door for a look at the street. Silent still, silent all.
The bathroom was on the left of the hallway, Johnny's bedroom next to it. There was a single bed shoved into one corner, a nightstand next to it and a couple of cardboard boxes shoved under it with what Kate identified as Johnny's clothes dumped inside. A University of Alaska Anchorage Seawolves banner was tacked over the head of the bed. Two books sat on the nightstand, Between Planets and Star Rebel, but the nightstand was missing that essential of life, a reading lamp. Johnny must have read in bed by the overhead light, controlled by the switch just inside the door. When he wanted to go to sleep, he'd have to get up and cross a cold floor on bare feet to turn it off. Kate was appalled.
In her opinion, a reading
Kate adjusted the lens and got a couple of shots of the duplex, the numbers of the address outlined clearly in large wooden letters next to the door. When ten minutes passed with no traffic coming down the street in either direction and no curtains moving in the windows of the houses facing the street, Kate started the Blazer, drove around the block once just to be sure and returned to Dickson to pull into the right-hand carport. She switched off the engine and got out of the car, the camera in one hand, closing the door behind Mutt. She didn't hesitate and she didn't look around to see if anyone was watching, having discovered early in her career that as long as you didn't look actively furtive, people tended to ignore you. Most of the time they were so preoccupied with their own cheating husbands, delinquent children and overdrawn checking accounts that they didn't see you at all.
She mounted the step to the porch and tried the handle. Locked. Without pause she turned and went around the house. The chain-link fence had a gate, unlocked. In the back, the fence divided the yard in half. Each unit had a sliding glass door leading onto a small, shared deck. She climbed the steps to the deck and tried the right-hand door. It slid open smoothly. Mutt stuck her nose in and curled her lip. "Stay," Kate told Mutt, who looked relieved.
The sliding door opened into the living room and it was immediately obvious that Jane was not a dedicated housekeeper. The coffee table was lost beneath a pile of magazines and catalogues that spilled onto the floor. A plastic basket of unfolded clothes sat on one end of the couch.
A television with a VCR on top of it and a cable box on top of the VCR dominated the room. Facing it was a recliner. On the floor next to the recliner was a plate with a gnawed pork chop bone on it. It went with the dust balls in every corner, the cigarette butts heaped in several ashtrays and the stained and matted carpet. The smell pretty much matched the look of the place.
Kate, who gave the word "neatnik" a whole new meaning, wondered if the squalor was due to Jane's natural talent or if she lived this way to spite Jack, making his property as unattractive as possible to prospective buyers. It had been Jack's home originally; he had moved out when they split up and had let her stay in the duplex rent-free so that Johnny would have a decent home with a yard to grow up in. Jane had repaid his generosity by contesting the title to the duplex when he had finally tried to put it up for sale. That case was on hold while the custody battle was being fought. Kate wondered how Jane was paying her lawyers. The litigation habit was an expensive one to maintain, and although Jane had a good job with the federal government, Kate was pretty sure it didn't pay that well. No job did.
She picked a fastidious path through the detritus to the door that led into the kitchen. The sink was stacked with dirty dishes. The table looked promising, piled high with mail, some opened, some not. Kate went past it and into the hallway that ended in the front door. She unlocked and opened the door for a look at the street. Silent still, silent all.
The bathroom was on the left of the hallway, Johnny's bedroom next to it. There was a single bed shoved into one corner, a nightstand next to it and a couple of cardboard boxes shoved under it with what Kate identified as Johnny's clothes dumped inside. A University of Alaska Anchorage Seawolves banner was tacked over the head of the bed. Two books sat on the nightstand, Between Planets and Star Rebel, but the nightstand was missing that essential of life, a reading lamp. Johnny must have read in bed by the overhead light, controlled by the switch just inside the door. When he wanted to go to sleep, he'd have to get up and cross a cold floor on bare feet to turn it off. Kate was appalled.
In her opinion, a reading
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