Thump. There it was again, unmistakable this time. Either the sound of footsteps, or something being dragged across the floor, or both. Jansen’s officer instinct went into auto mode, and for good reason. A recent rash of burglaries in the upscale, central Los Angeles neighborhood was why Michael had asked his friend to house sit. Jansen loved the comfort of his home in Gardena, and agreed to his best friend’s pleas only after Michael promised that a home security system would be installed immediately upon his return. Well, brothah, Jansen thought with a resigned sigh, looks like I’m getting ready to earn my keep.

With the stealth of a panther, Jansen turned the shower back to full blast, eased out of the stall, soundlessly wrapped a towel around his waist, and reached for the 9mm Glock that was never far from his reach. Tonight he’d unstrapped and rested it on the closed toilet seat, before the rest of his navy uniform ended up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Thunk.

Jansen eased the gun out of its holster and crept down the short hallway to the top of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he placed his foot on the top step and prayed the old maple wood wouldn’t creak under his weight.

Eden walked into the living room and dropped another load onto the hardwood floor. Her first thought had been to leave everything in the car until morning, but a chance glance at a crime-watch sign nailed to a post nixed that idea. Even in what she felt was a fairly safe neighborhood, a car packed with clearly visible goods may be too much for either a hardened criminal or a bored teen to pass up. So with the last ounces of energy she could summon after driving for ten hours, she walked in with her beloved stereo system—the final load.

Jansen kept his back against the wall as he noted the shadow passing along the living room’s far wall. Whoever this fool is has a lot of nerve. Normally, especially when it was obvious that someone was home, a burglar would do one quick, thorough sweep—get in and out. But Jansen wanted to catch this perpetrator, believing that in doing so he may nab the person or ring of persons behind this neighborhood’s woes. That’s why he’d left the shower running, to give the thief a false sense of security. The criminal had obviously taken the bait and made himself at home. You may be nervy, but you’re not too bright, son. Jansen quietly cocked his weapon. It was about to go down.