The only other way into the room was via the exterior window. As the bedroom was on the second floor, accessing the window would require using a ladder. He had an extension ladder in the garage that he could have climbed all the way to the roof, but he was certain that the window was latched from the inside. It presented a similar conundrum.

He shifted his gaze to the lockset. It was brass-colored and shiny. Either Grace had visited a hardware store recently, or she had brought this in her luggage, in preparation.

He believed the latter. What else did she have in there?

In one of his old apartments from his bachelor days, it had been possible to bypass the lock with a thin, laminated card inserted between the door and the jamb. He opened his wallet, located a Costco card. He slid it into the narrow gap between the edge of the door and the door jamb, pushed the door knob, bent the card back and forth, trying to shimmy it against the bolt.

No luck. He cursed under his breath.

He unclipped his iPhone from his belt and did a quick Google search on using a card to bypass a door lock. As often happened when executing an Internet search, he happened across a series of pages on a related topic: picking a lock with a homemade lock pick set.

The process required an unfolded paper clip to shift the tumblers, and another tool that could serve as the tension wrench. It looked doable for a novice like him. But it was going to take time.

He checked his watch. Five past nine. Monica’s appointment was at nine o’clock. He was counting on it taking a maximum of ninety minutes for them to return to the house, but that was purely a guess on his part.

He needed to move quickly.

He had started along the catwalk, going back to the staircase, when he heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. It sounded like Monica’s X5.

Shit. Have they come back already?

He scrambled down the steps, dashed to the basement door, and was halfway downstairs when the alarm beeped, a friendly notification that one of the sensor-monitored doors had been opened. He paused on the staircase, listened.

A single set of footsteps clicked across the entry hall.

Grace, he thought. She dropped off Monica at the doctor’s office but has come back. Dammit.

The rapid pace of her footsteps led him to think she was in a hurry, intent on some pressing purpose of her own. But she didn’t call out for him. It sounded as if she were going upstairs.

Grab whatever you returned for and get the hell out, he thought.

He waited on the basement staircase, heart rattling.