Free The House That Death Built by Michaelbrent Collings Page B

snorted again. "No alarm." She flicked a
glance in Rob's direction. "You were right. These idiots didn't
bother."
    Rob almost hadn't believed it
when he looked closely at the electrical plan sheets from the sheaf Tommy
brought him. Most houses this size were specially wired for pre-installed,
custom alarm systems. This place had shown no such features. Which didn't mean
there would still be no alarm; systems now were easily installed. But still, he
had thrilled when he saw a house like this. The essential feature left off the
plans.
    And he was even happier now.
    My luck is changing already.
    He could feel it: a lightness
that stripped away years of failures in a moment. The feeling that tonight,
everything would finally change.
    Back on top, baby.
    Tommy snorted, too. This one a
sound of incredulity. "No alarm?" he whispered. "On a place like
this? Fortune really does favor the brave."
    "I told you, the guy was
wasted when he left," said Rob. "Even if there is an alarm, he
probably couldn't have turned it on if he tried. Numbers that small can be
weally, weally hard to push."
    He said the last in a nasally,
babyish voice. Tommy and Kayla laughed so quietly it was barely a breeze in the
windless night. No one would hear it inside the house.
    But he heard. And smiled.
    Yeah. The luck's changing.
    Only Aaron, the ever-killer of
all things buzz, was silent. He just waited. Then said, "I don't like
it."
    Tommy shook his head. "Of
course you don't. You're an idiot."
    Aaron managed to bridle, his
cowardice sliding aside as umbrage replaced it. " I'm an idiot?
Really?"
    Rob had the sudden feeling that
Aaron would stop this moment. Would steal their success – maybe go for one of
their guns, maybe raise a scream that would alert the slumbering owners of the
house.
    "Shut up," said Rob.
"Both of you." He stared hard at Aaron. "Especially you. Don't
jinx this for us."
    The moment he finished, there was
a subtle click as Kayla cracked open the door. In spite of her assurances,
everyone froze for a moment – even her – waiting for the telltale sound of an
alarm going off.
    Nothing.
    Could be a silent alarm. Just
alerting Crawford on his cell while a call goes directly to the cops.
    But that wasn't it. He knew. His
luck was changing.
    Tonight was the night.
    He went in.
    The door opened to reveal a
spacious kitchen. Everything was thoroughly modern, not at all worn. It had the
look and feel of a room that gets updated every few years, whether it needs it or
not. Stainless steel appliances perfectly matched one another, splashes of
color artfully highlighted the perfect design of the space. Everything that
wasn't metal was dark wood, and Rob knew this wasn't plywood covered by a PVC
laminate, or even oak or cherry. This had to be teak or mahogany. But the dark
cabinetry didn't detract from the feeling of bright openness the kitchen
exhibited – even in the dead of night. The wood was itself polished to a sheen
so perfect it was a glow in the darkness.
    There was a center island the
size of a conference table, which held a (second) complete stovetop and a
(third) oven. The top of the island was a single, thick slab of marble, cut
precisely, with rounded corners to prevent anything so banal as a bruise to the
hired help.
    On the wall behind the stove was
a backsplash that alone probably cost ten thousand dollars, leading up to an
industrial-size steel oven hood so clean it could have served as a mirror.
    Not just the kitchen of the rich
and famous, this was a kitchen meant to service those lucky few with utter
efficiency, while maintaining the fiction that nothing ever occurred here. It
was a place so looked-after that it was a delight to look upon.
    Not that the scabs who live here would
ever set foot in such a nasty place, a place where the help do their ugly work.
    Rob looked at Tommy and Kayla.
Their eyes gleamed, and he knew they were doing their own appraisals of the
place, and of what it would mean to their score.
    He didn't look