Bedtime Story: Silver and Scotch – Night 25
Silver and Scotch
Copyright 2015 by Barbara Hinske
Blake parked the black Camry in deep shade along Jefferson, at York. He walked slowly down York, toward his prey. He circled the square, inspecting every home and car surrounding it. The lights remained out in the house that was his target. Satisfied that the street was deserted, he cut through the side yard and slipped through a narrow gap in the hedge bordering the back yard.
He waited in the shadow of the hedge and listened. Hearing no disturbance, he crossed the yard and climbed the stairs to the piazza that wrapped around the side of the house. He found the French doors to the dining room, noiselessly lowered his duffle to the floor, and began the painstaking work of removing the lower pane of glass from the door.
He was rusty, to be sure. It took him almost an hour to remove the eighteen-inch square, but he hadn’t broken it. He repacked his tools and squeezed into the room
Blake crouched and surveyed the room. Everything was as he remembered. He flushed with the familiar adrenaline rush. There, on the sideboard, was the tea set plus an ornate silver compote that hadn’t been on display during the tour. He took a deep breath and began carefully ferrying the family treasures across the room and into the waiting duffle.