I pursed my lips, somewhat delighted at this chain of events, and texted him back.
Aw, sorry! I can’t, I’ve decided to go catch up with my friend in San Diego. Just about to leave now. It’ll just be for the night though, so maybe we can catch up for drinks tomorrow night? Have a great time at the show!
I pressed send and waited. The air seemed to get hotter by the second and soon my jeans felt like a sauna prison for my legs.
It wasn’t long before he replied back.
Wow, San Diego. That’s a long drive. Hope you’re careful. Bring back some of that sea breeze for me. Talk soon. Camden.
I thought it cute that he signed his name and exhaled a sigh of relief, tilting my head up to the sky. He was going to be out in San Bernardino all night. That was at least an hour away which meant he’d be gone by nine p.m. and wouldn’t be back until midnight at the earliest. I had three hours to do this.
I was going to rob Camden McQueen.
CHAPTER NINE
Unfortunately, lying to Camden also meant lying to my uncle. Their stories had to match because when the sheriff’s son was robbed, the whole town was going to know about it.
When I got back home from Joshua Tree, I packed my bags and left a note for him. He was somewhere out in the date groves and I didn’t have the time to hunt him down. Plus, I felt better lying on paper than to his face.
Basically, I told him the same thing I told Camden; I was going to San Diego for the night to see my friend Cindy. I know, I know. Cindy is totally the name of the girl you make up in your alibi. But I actually did have a friend called Cindy in San Diego, and she was one of those people who owed me big time. Let’s just say I did a lot of eco-terrorism on her behalf and her house is now overrun by the rabbits and dogs we liberated from an animal testing clinic.
I left the note on the counter and made myself promise that as soon as I had any extra money, I’d make sure that the mustard in Uncle Jim’s fridge would never be lonely. The man worked too hard and—in his own way—was far too generous to be missing the finer things in life. He may not have wanted charity, but I was sure he was going to get it somehow.
At about four p.m. I revved Jose and peeled out of the cul-de-sac. If my uncle heard my wheels out in the groves, then the timing would make sense. I took a left onto the highway and headed for the outlet mall in Cabazon. I had a few hours to kill and that place was as good as any to get lost in a crowd. It would have been more fun if I had a few spare dollars to spare, but with my last twenty going to dinner and gas, I was flat broke.
I wasted my time walking around the stores and peeking in the windows, battered by the relentless wind that swept down the I-10 and kept the giant turbines turning. Considering I was forever consigned to pants or leggings, I’d never been too interested in fashion anyway. I wore what I had to and was comfortable with my uniform of jeans, pretty/edgy tops, and boots. When I grew bored of window shopping, I went and sat in my car with my dying Kindle, its battery flashing CHARGE ME for the next hour. Then, when the time was right, I popped a few Kava pills to kill my flaring nerves and headed back into Palm Valley.
This time my soundtrack was the album Sunset Mission by Bohren & Der Club of Gore, a German horror jazz band that was all instrumental. As silly as it sounds, listening to it not only calmed me down, but it made me feel like a femme fatale in a film noir. It was part of my pre-con ritual. It made me play the character of the grifter. It made me own my lack of morality. Of course when I saw it all in my head, my black hair was curled in a sleek bob and I wore red lipstick. I also drank scotch on the rocks while safecracking. Hey, whatever gets you ready for the job.
A few blocks before Camden’s, I pulled down a side street and went down two blocks. Then I went up another block and parked my car beside a small dog-walking park. If I headed across the street and went through a vacant lot, I’d be on his street and his house would be three doors down. It was a joyous day when Google Maps Street View came into our lives.
I cut the engine and spent a few moments scoping the darkness. The street was totally empty and very quiet considering it was only 9:15 at night. That could either work for or against me. When there weren’t many people about, if someone saw you, you were easier to remember. That said, you had a greater chance of not being seen.
I was prepared though. I reached in the backseat and stuck on a blue baseball cap and a pair of thin gloves. The rest of me was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black basketball jersey to hide any sign of femininity. I tucked my notepad into the back pocket of my jeans and removed my car keys from the ignition. On the end of the keychain I had my trusty tiny Allen wrench I had ground down, plus a straightened out safety pin and paperclip, both strong enough to handle the five-pin tumbler lock that kept Camden’s house safe. The only other thing I had was a reusable Safeway bag that was tucked into my boots. I traveled light. It was easier that way.
After taking one more pill and a few deep breaths, I left Jose as casually as possible. The last thing you wanted was to be sneaking around and have someone see you sneaking around. I acted unpremeditated, like I lived around here, but still closed the door quietly. I walked easily across the street and crossed the vacant lot full of sand, rock, and dried out brush. Just…taking a stroll. Nothing to see here.
Once I reached Camden’s street, I walked with the same purpose. I was just a friend, just a friend paying him a visit and oh look, he wasn’t home. Sounded simple when you said it like that but one house away and I was starting to get really nervous. Puking my guts out kind of nervous. Second-guessing everything kind of nervous.
I couldn’t lose it. I passed by the quaint white bungalow that was his neighbor (thankfully not the ones who we had a close call with the night before) and suddenly there I was. Even though he had kept a light on in the garage and in the kitchen window, his jeep was gone. I had more than enough time now, I had to remember that.
I did a quick, casual sweep of my surroundings before making my way to his front door. As I thought, it stayed dark and he didn’t have any motion sensors. Still, I kept my head down low, just in case there was a camera mounted somewhere. It was extremely unlikely but it was better to be paranoid than dead.
When I saw the road was deserted and I grinned at the hedge of desert roses that kept me hidden from the occasional car going down the main street, I got to work on his lock. All deadbolts were five-pin tumblers and his was a Kwikset, which was as generic as you could get. Normally, lock-picking took a lot of time and patience, but when you grew up with a family of con artists, you were given locks to practice on more than you were given a Barbie or Lego.
I selected my trusty Allen wrench from the key ring, and as casually as someone just putting their house key into their house lock, inserted it. It took only a few seconds for me to locate all the pins from the first to the key pin and push them up past the sheer line inside. The cylinder turned and the door opened with ease.
I knew there wouldn’t be any alarms going off since he didn’t have a system, so I quickly shut the door, not locking it, and crept to the office. Even though I knew he wasn’t home, it was best to be quiet anyway. It was a habit I didn’t like to break.
His office was cold at this time of night and there was a small lamp lit in the corner, casting the room in an eerie glow. I did a quick once-over of the office, trying to see if there was anything else of value. My eyes hesitated on the computer as I thought about going through his files, but I was already invading his privacy enough. Besides, I knew all I needed to know about Camden McQueen. Anything more might work against me.
I opened the closet doors and crouched down to the safe. I turned the dial to zero, then started going through the codes I came up with. I tried the usual suspects, then his birthday, then his son’s. I tried his license plate number, then the area code. I tried more things and more things and more things. Nothing doing.
After about thirty minutes, when the sweat began to collect on my forehead, I was about to resign myself to actually trying to crack the safe through the harder and more tedious methods when I had an incredibly vain thought. Camden used to like me…an awful lot. What were the odds of him picking my birthday? I had a single digit birth day and a double digit birth month, so it would work.
I turned the dial to one. Then two. Then nine.
The safe cracked open.
Shit. Camden had actually used my birthday as his code. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out. I decided on the latter, since any thoughts about the former would only hold me back. I had to stay focused and keep going. I was in way too deep at this point.
And it didn’t matter. I had done what I came here to do.
I slowly opened the safe door, and with my heart in my mouth, peered inside.
There was nothing but cash. Ziplock bags of cash. Some of them a mix of notes, others all hundred dollar bills. There was at least twenty thousand dollars piled up in the safe. It was an obscene amount and I almost started salivating at the sight, which was great since my tongue had started sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Originally, I was going to take it all. It was the only way I could make the robbery look natural. But perhaps if I threw a couple of bags by the door, as if I had dropped them during my escape, I could make it look like an accident. That way I’d still leave him with something. I mean, serves him kind of right for keeping this much cash in a safe. What, didn’t he trust the banks?
I took in a deep breath and with hands that trembled ever so slightly, I pulled my canvas Safeway bag out of my boot and began to pile the money inside in neat little bundles.
I was so engrossed in making the bag look as clean and as inconspicuous as possible, wrapping the excess plastic over on itself, that I didn’t hear the door open.
The only thing I heard was a sound that you never forget.
The sound of a Magnum’s hammer being pulled back.
The unmistakable cocking of a gun.
It echoed around the small room in slow motion and my actions reflected the pace. When you know you’ve got a gun aimed at you, everything moves just a little bit slower.
I turned my head in the direction of the sound, knowing it was a dicey move. I saw a blinding flashlight illuminating my face, my hands, my bag of his money, and the empty open safe. I saw his silhouette in the doorway, barely lit by the room’s lamp. I saw the glint in his eyes and the matching shine of his smile as he pointed a gun at my face.
“Gotcha,” he said. His teeth gleamed white.
CHAPTER TEN
I was breathless. Speechless. Immobile. I could only stare at him, at Camden McQueen, as he held the Magnum like it was just an extension of his arm. This had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t in his office, catching me in the act of robbing him blind.
“Put the bag down, Ellie,” he said, his voice emotionless. With the light blinding me, I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. I didn’t know how to play this. “Put the bag down, then slowly stand up and put your hands in the air.”
I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Camden, I—“
“Shut up. Just shut. Up. Put the bag down. Stand up slowly. Put your hands in the air and face me.”