The cruiser continued north on El Camino Real and disappeared around a gradual bend in the road.

Nathan slid down the slope and approached the electric gate. No stumps of any kind. He searched the immediate area for wood chips produced by a stump grinder, but didn’t find any evidence of that either. Plus, he could clearly see the house a hundred yards up the driveway. This didn’t look like the place.

“Good job with the deputy. I took a close look, and this isn’t the place. Let’s keep going, but carefully. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of our law enforcement friend.”

“He’ll definitely cruise through here again.”

Further down the road they found their house. No doubt about it. White rail fence. Electric gate. Interlocking pavers. And the stump was hard to miss.

“We’re in business,” Harv said. “Let’s find a place to park.”

Driving by, he studied what he could, but Nichole Dalton had it right. The house couldn’t be seen from the street.

Farther down the road, they both saw it at the same time, a place to park at the entrance to a small community park. The closed gate prevented access, but they could park on the shoulder without drawing too much attention. And Harv’s big Mercedes would look perfectly natural in this neighborhood. When the deputy patrolled through here again, he couldn’t miss it, and finding it unoccupied would raise suspicion. Short on options, they decided to risk it.

They put on all their tactical gear and applied fresh face paint to the exposed areas of skin. Satisfied, they nodded to each other and climbed out. Harv locked the sedan and placed the keys on top of the left front tire. They both knew an untimely jingling of keys could blow a stealthy approach—especially with dogs.

“Nate, you still have those quarters in your pocket from the payphone?”

He removed them and tossed them into the bushes.

“Let’s mask our scent,” Nathan said. He reached up and yanked a small branch from a eucalyptus tree. Harv did the same. They crushed the leaves and rolled them like dough in their hands before rubbing the pungent leafy mix all over their clothes and exposed skin. It wasn’t perfect, and certainly not adequate against trained tactical dogs, but better than nothing. Too bad some road apples weren’t available. They never used deodorant on missions, and they’d both showered with scent-free soap prior to the Long Beach raid. Dogs were always a concern. Their keen sense of smell didn’t miss much, especially human traces.