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Remuera was a leafy suburb dotted with genteel mansions and rolling slopes and ocean views. It was prosperous, exclusive, picture-perfect.
Kendra had the taxi driver drop her off several streets down from the actual address, and she hit the sidewalk, breathing in the smell of sea salt as she performed a slow sweep of the neighbourhood.
She observed fashionable young mothers pushing their infants along in designer prams, well-groomed retirees sipping tea at upscale cafes, and yachts bobbing in the sun-kissed waters of the bay close by.
The mood was relaxed.
Almost too relaxed.
Shaking her head, Kendra realised that this place was a bubble wrapped within a bubble, where folks didn’t believe that the troubles of the world could touch them. Part of it was entitlement, and the other part of it was naiveté. And if the powers-that-be said that the blast in the city centre was an accident, well, they would buy it.
But Kendra knew better because she had seen the shadow of the beast, tasted a trace of its venom, and she wasn’t about to be lulled into a false sense of security.
She quickened her steps. She zigzagged from one side of the street to the other, then she backtracked.
Eyes darting, she searched for signs of surveillance. She checked for pedestrians who tried to echo her movements or tried to look as if they weren’t. And she inspected the vehicles around her – parked or passing. She checked to see if any had tinted windows, because tinted windows were a dead giveaway for covert observers.
Kendra moved in an elliptical loop.
She scanned far and near.
Nothing tripped her sixth sense.
Stretching her shoulders, Kendra adjusted the straps on her backpack. She felt secure enough to zero in on the address. So she moved off the sidewalk and stepped on to a cobbled pathway, entering a park.
Trees flanked her on either side, branches forming a canopy that swayed and swooshed overhead, penetrated only by shafts of sunlight. Stray leaves crackled under her shoes. Birds twittered.
It was idyllic.
Soon Kendra encountered a fork in the path, and without thinking, she chose to go right. And that led her straight into a recreational area, where children were playing on slides and swings and mazes, shrieking and laughing.
Kendra stared, and – damn – that’s when the melancholy hit her, like a talon scraping across her heart.
This was the place – the exact same place – that Ryan and her used to hang out.
Back when they were happy.
Back when they were innocent.
Before everything got fucked up beyond recognition.
Lips trembling, Kendra forced herself to turn away. Retracing her steps, she returned to the fork in the path and opted to go left this time.
It occurred to her why her subconscious had led her in the other direction to begin with. It was born out of a desire to revisit the pain, to punish herself. Because young love was fleeting, all too easily lost like tears in the rain.
Kendra dug her nails into her palms, cheeks twitching.
Focus. Focus on the objective. That’s the only thing that matters right now.
She took measured breaths.
Keep calm and carry on.
Soon Kendra reached the other end of the park, and she found a good vantage point – a bench positioned in a secluded alcove ringed by bushes. And Ryan’s parents’ home was just downhill, two-hundred metres away.
Sitting down, Kendra reached into her backpack.
She got out the monocular that was part of the surveillance gear.
Pressing it against her right eye, she aimed it downrange. The image was hazy at first, but then the lens whirred and automatically adjusted, and the mansion came into focus.
Yes, the place was just as she remembered it.
Lush.
Grandiose.
Imposing.
Kendra swept her gaze over the perfectly manicured gardens, the tennis court, the swimming pool.
No movement.
No threats.
So Kendra scanned the windows of the mansion itself. Left to right, top to bottom. And... it was strange. All the blinds and drapes were pulled tight. Every single one. There were no gaps to peek through. Not even a sliver.
Kendra inspected the rooftop, and she saw that the rollers on the skylights were shuttered as well.
It didn’t make sense.
She thought about Ryan’s mother, Leila. She remembered how the woman used to obsess about natural light and had insisted that the mansion be constructed to incorporate it. That was Leila’s pride and joy.
So why shut out all the sunshine? Especially on a summer day like this?
Kendra lowered her monocular. She mulled over the contradiction, and tilting her head, she got out her phone and dialled the mansion’s number from memory.
The line on the other end rang and rang, but no one picked up.
That felt very wrong.
Ryan’s father, Saeed, was active in business and philanthropic circles, and he had a reputation for being a perfectionist, a nitpicker. He would never have tolerated a missed call.
Such old-school sensibilities meant that a member of the household staff was always – always – on hand to answer the phone. And on the slim chance that no one at all was available, Saeed certainly would have made sure that the answering machine was connected.
Kendra sucked in a breath and hit the redial key on her phone. This time, she allowed the line to ring and ring until it timed out. All she was left with was a dead tone.
Damn it...
Kendra grimaced. She felt the slow burn of adrenaline in her gut. That incendiary mixture of dread and anticipation.
I’m going to have to move in.