When I turned toward Tharpe’s house, I saw the sticker for an alarm system. Often on my paper route, I helped my customers with other problems around their homes. Just quick little jobs to save them from having to pay a professional. One of the most frequent requests was help with alarm systems that the elderly didn’t understand well. When I saw Tharpe’s sticker for Malloy Security, I knew he’d bought a second-rate system. Malloy was a shitty company that would slap a sensor on your front and back door. Often customers were lucky if they had hooked it up to a power supply at all.

I scooted around to the back door and saw a keypad. This was going to be easier than I expected. I used a trick an electrician showed me when we were working on one of my customers’ houses. I pulled my commemorative Navy knife from my pocket, slipped the blade between the house and the keypad, and ripped the plastic contraption right off the wall. Then I crossed the two wires in the back of the box and heard the beep on the inside of the house saying the alarm was no longer active. It never paid to be cheap where security was involved.

The lock on the door was a little more complicated. When you’re desperate, though, a few locks can’t hold you. I laid my shoulder into the door and it almost came off the frame as it opened up.

I flipped on the light. It was obvious I would never be able to hide the damage to the back door. Now it was all about speed. I bolted up the stairs and rummaged through a few drawers in the bedroom and a little office. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I had to find something that would link Tharpe to Pete Stahl.

I worked my way back to the kitchen and had just about tossed the entire house upside down when headlights washed through the living room as a car pulled into the driveway.

I prayed Tharpe would use the front door and not remember if he left the light on or not. The one thing I did know: I was about to get either some answers or a bullet in the head.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I HEARD THE car door and realized my best chance to escape would be to scoot out the back now. But something kept me from doing it. The idea of my brother sitting in jail for Pete Stahl’s death kept my feet firmly in the hallway near the kitchen. I had to get to the bottom of this.