A block behind Douglas, Lisa used her own binoculars. Fortunately, the street arced slightly left so she had a clear view of the house. The risk lay in her being exposed to both Douglas and Ethel. The rookie agent was probably so focused on his quarry that he neglected to check his own tail. Ethel would not be so naive. For that matter, she’d probably already made Douglas. That could work to Lisa’s advantage. Ethel might not look beyond one follower. The downside was she might try to lose him and lose her in the process. Lisa hoped Douglas would cool his jets and keep his distance until she could figure out what was going on.

***

Ethel stepped up on a small deck. There was a barbecue grill; a wrought-iron, glass-topped table; and four matching all-weather chairs. A pair of glass-paned French doors enabled direct entry into the kitchen.

“Good,” Ethel said, “I was afraid there’d be sliding doors with a wedge blocking the inner track. We would have to risk either going through a window or opening a door within sight of the street.” She set the pouch on the table and untied the leather strap keeping it folded closed. She flipped it open to reveal a set of fine-pointed and thin-bladed instruments. It looked like a portable dentist’s kit.

Jesse peered over her shoulder. “Are those picks?”

“My father’s pride and joy. He’d lock me out of the house with only these tools and a flashlight.” She selected two of the picks and went to the door. “Once I had to shelter in the garage during a thunderstorm. Didn’t get in until three in the morning.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“You were ten, and your father locked you out in the rain?”

She bent down and examined the lock. “Now, before you go reporting a sixty-five-year-old incident to Child Protective Services, you need to know I wouldn’t have gone in the house any other way.” She looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t give up, Jesse.”

“So your father taught you how to break and enter and then fly off in a getaway plane.”

She chuckled. “Every girl should be so lucky. Now stand back and give me a little room.”

Ten minutes later, they were inside. The kitchen stood in disarray. Drawers were pulled out, cabinets left open. A walk into the living room where Ethel and Susan had sat a few days earlier found the sofa and chair cushions cut open with pieces of stuffing scattered everywhere. The same scene existed in the den, the master bedroom, and a bedroom converted into an office. Here, they found a file cabinet with its drawers so extended that the whole thing had tipped forward.