Caitlyn Pepper was startled when her security alarm went off in the middle of the night. Her heart hammered wildly as she sat up, tossed the covers back, and reached beneath her bed for her green canvas bag. She grabbed her Glock and Maglite from the bag, then tiptoed down to the second floor, pressed her ear to the privacy door, and listened before unlocking it.
Hands shaking, Cait switched on the Maglite, stepped into the room, and tracked her Maglite and gun back and forth as the alarm continued to blare. Satisfied no one was on that floor, she continued down to the first floor, shadows mocking each step she took. She hit the light switch for the large front room and hallway. Alert for sudden movement, she backed over to the digital keypad on the wall next to the front door and entered the code to silence the alarm.
Then the landline started to ring.
She ignored the phone while she checked the locks on the door and windows, and then went into the gift shop and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“ADT,” a man said. “We got a signal there’s a disturbance at your house.”
“I’m still checking,” she said, her gaze darting about the room. “Everything appears to be okay so far, but if you’ll hold I’ll check the kitchen and office.”
“Take your time.”
Cait put the call on hold and tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen. Something soft brushed against her ankles. She gasped and jumped back, blood pounding in her ears. Velcro, the stray cat that had adopted her, disappeared into the shadows. As she reached for the light switch, someone pounded on the back door.
“Who’s there?” she shouted, hitting the light switch for the kitchen and back step.
Jim Hart, her new property manager, motioned to her through the window in the door. Cait lowered her gun to her side and walked over and unlocked the door.
“I heard the alarm. Everything okay?” Jim’s thinning gray hair stood on end as he peered into the kitchen.
She glanced at the wall clock and saw it was a couple of minutes past three. “I think so. Come in while I check back here. The alarm company’s on the phone.” She went into the office and picked up the receiver. “My property manager’s here now. Everything looks okay. Thanks for calling.”
Jim stood in the office doorway. “I’ll look around while I’m here.”
Cait turned the light on in the office as her gaze swept the room. “I already checked, except for the locks on this window and door. You heard the alarm way over at your RV?”
He nodded. “Surprised us, too. I thought June would jump out of her skin.”
“Sorry. You better comfort her so she won’t worry.”
“She worries about you, too,” he said as he checked the locks.
Cait thanked Jim for coming and walked him to the back door. After he left, she secured the door, turned the downstairs lights off, and returned to bed.
Just as Cait felt herself falling back to sleep, the alarm went off again.
She shot up and out of bed. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered. This time her gun and Maglite were within easy reach on the bedside table. Once again, she went through the same procedure, one floor at a time. She punched in the code on the keypad before ADT could call, stuck her head in each room, and then returned to bed, still feeling anxious. Maybe Tasha’s ghost set the alarm off or this old house is still settling.
Two months earlier, when Cait inherited the Bening Estate from her aunt Tasha Bening, she’d been a crime analyst in Columbus, Ohio. The estate—a three-story yellow Victorian house on top of a hill, two Shakespearean theaters, and a vineyard—was located in Livermore, forty-five miles east of San Francisco. After a tumultuous settling-in period, Cait felt she could go forward with Tasha’s beloved Shakespeare festival and the vineyard. The first thing she did was have a security system installed in the house and the theaters. If someone tried to break into the theaters, she might be able to hear the alarm but wouldn’t know which one had been compromised.
When she went downstairs later that morning, she found Marcus Singer, her recently promoted festival manager, staring at the computer screen in his office. She told him about the alarm scare during the night and asked that he have ADT send someone to check the system.
“Could be the wind,” Marcus said. He pulled a file from one of the desk drawers. “I’ll call now.”
June Hart, Jim’s wife, knocked on the back door. She usually wore her blond hair in a knot at the top of her head, but today it was clipped at the nape of her neck. She reminded Cait of her mother: five-three, trim frame, a ready smile. “Sorry about the alarm,” Cait said. “I had no idea it could be heard way over at your RV.”
“Startled us,” June said, “but it’s a blessing in disguise in case there’s real trouble. Being alone in this big house would scare anyone. You need a guard dog.”
“So I’ve been told.” She thought about the plays opening that weekend—Hamlet at the outdoor Elizabethan theater and Macbeth at the small indoor Blackfriars theater. “You know I couldn’t manage the festival without you and Jim. I would’ve had to close the theaters.”
“Nonsense. Why would you think that? From what I’ve heard, you managed Tongue of a Bird like a pro last month.”
“Only because Tasha had made all the preparations. I didn’t have to do anything but smile and greet people when they came to see the play.”
“All’s Well that Ends Well,” June quipped, with a glint in her blue eyes. Retired after four decades as a Shakespearean actor, she loved to slip quotes from Shakespeare into conversations to amuse and confuse her friends.
Cait nodded. “Hamlet is different. It reminds me that Tasha had been chosen to be the play’s associate artistic director at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, if she hadn’t been—”
“Don’t go there, Cait. What happened to Tasha was no fault of yours. I’m happy I can help you with the festival and not have to compete with the much younger actors. Too darn much drama on and off the stage.”
The doorbell rang.
“That should be ADT,” Marcus said, entering the kitchen from his office. “I was told they were already working in the area.”
Cait glanced at the clock as she slid off her stool: 9:30. “I’ll get the door, Marcus.”
When she opened the front door, a tall black man smiled and displayed his ID. “Morning, ma’am. ADT.”
Cait glanced over his shoulder and noted a white and blue panel truck in the driveway, then compared the man’s face to the one on his ID tag. “Thanks for coming so soon.” She held the door open for him to enter.
She explained about the two late-night alarms.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Would have freaked me out, too. Probably a bug in your new system.”
“That’s what I thought. Let me know if you need anything.” She left him standing by the security panel and went into the kitchen where June and Marcus were discussing the alarm system.
Marcus dunked a teabag in his cup. “I hate the nuisance of an alarm, too, Cait, but we’ll get used to it. It’s for your own protection.”
“I know.”
“Hope it’s just a loose wire. We don’t need more trouble around here.” Marcus swept his hand over his spiked sun-bleached hair. “I’ll be in the garage. Still work to do on the platform before the Green Show.”
Cait watched him go. She marveled at the change in Marcus, an ex-con Tasha had taken under her wing as her secretary. In exchange for giving him a second chance in life, he’d done everything she’d asked, even taking her to appointments because she didn’t like to drive. When Cait inherited the estate, Marcus had been indifferent to her, sometimes ignoring her, but after she declared her right to make changes on the estate, they came to a mutual understanding.
“Ma’am?”
Cait jumped at the deep voice behind her. The security technician stood in the doorway.
“Nothing’s wrong with the keypad,” he said. “I’ll go outside, walk the grounds around the house, and check the lights. Could be a short setting off the alarm.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to go through another night like last night.”
“Could be a mouse,” June said after the technician left.
Cait shivered. “That possibility gives me the creeps.”
June turned to leave. “Let me know if he finds anything. I’m going to see what Jim’s up to.”
Concerned the Harts would take their RV back on the road now that both were retired, Cait asked, “Is Jim happy here?”
June rolled her eyes. “He’s settled in like a rock. You may have to kick us out to get him to leave.” She stepped closer, her voice low. “I know Jim told you he’s a carpenter, but that’s just one of many hobbies. Jim and his partner ran a small security firm specializing in stolen art. He still keeps his nose in the business, but only as a silent partner. He’s like a modern-day Indiana Jones.”
Cait raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
June grinned. “He’s a private, modest man. He would never have told you himself, unless you asked, but I thought you should know.”
The back door opened. “Ma’am, would you mind stepping outside? I need to show you something.”
Cait’s heart lurched as she stared at the technician. This means it’s not a mouse interrupting the system.
Cait and June followed him around to the west side of the house where he directed their attention to the two windows from the gift shop. Pry marks scuffed the wood beneath one of the windows, and a deep gouge was cut into the other windowsill.
“Those are fresh marks,” the man said. “Looks like someone attempted to open these windows and tripped the alarm. Maybe a kid. Too sloppy for a professional burglar.”
Cait’s breath caught as she stared at the damaged windowsills. Kids wouldn’t climb up here to break in.
“There’s also this. I found it outside the back door and stumbled over it.” He pulled an object from his tool belt and held it out to her. “Not your usual burglar’s tool.”
Cait frowned, took the unfamiliar ornate object, and turned it around in her hands, careful not to cut herself on the sharp point. “I wonder what it is.”
The man pointed to the rose bushes beneath the windows. “There’s also a knife. I didn’t think I should touch it.”
Cait leaned over and stared at the knife caught in the thorny bush, then found a tissue in her jeans pocket and carefully reached to pick it up.
“Ma’am,” the ADT man continued, “you should call the police.”