The Stranger

The money was a bonus. Secondary.
This eradicated any chance Abbie might sympathise with Travis’ decision to hold the bag to ransom rather than relinquish it to Francis at the allotted time for the agreed price. Travis was not desperate for funds. To him, this was a game. He wanted to get one over on the big dog.
Clearly, Travis believed himself untouchable. Perhaps even immortal. Not an uncommon trait for teenagers born into wealth and subsequently spoiled. Money so often created arrogance, especially in those who had access to it but had not worked for it. Abbie wondered how long it would be before someone disabused Travis of this notion. And when they did, would Travis end up in hospital in possession of broken bones and a valuable life lesson, or in a graveyard before he had a chance to realise the error of his ways?
Interesting, thought-provoking questions, none of which did Abbie have the time or the inclination to answer. She was here not because she wanted to protect Travis but to find out what might drive a man like Francis to pay a trio of teenagers to mug his wife, with the hope this might offer something she could use in her fight to protect Eddie.
The double drive was empty. None the less, Abbie parked two streets away. Leaving her car out of the way, in the shade of a tree (not that there was much sun to cast a shadow on this grey day), she made her way back to Travis’ home.
Still no cars in the drive. The street was quiet, but many people would be home on this drab Saturday. Some would be nosey. It was possible that, even now, she was being watched.
Passing the front of the house, Abbie spied Travis through grand windows, lounging on the sofa in a living room that ran from one end of the house to the other. He had the telly up loud and looked half asleep. He might not have noticed had Abbie pulled open the window and tried to climb through. Still, he might not be home alone. Until she knew for sure, Abbie had to proceed with caution.
Without his noticing, she passed the living room window and stepped onto the drive. Briefly, she considered knocking on the door and forcing him to tell her what she needed to know. Not a wise move if he wasn’t alone. Possibly not the best play even if he was. Abbie didn’t want to hurt Travis. Well, perhaps she was a little tempted, but her moral code forbade it. Better to try cut him out the loop altogether. Until she had no other choice.
Passing the front door, Abbie crossed the double driveway on the diagonal. She neither hunched nor snuck but acted as though she had every right to be there, hoping that, if any nosy neighbour looked out, they would assume she was on Travis’ property by invitation and would not call the homeowners or the police.
From the double driveway, Abbie stepped onto the side path and made her way to the side gate. It wasn’t locked. She turned the smooth, cold, metal ring and heard the bolt rise on the other side. Without glancing back, she pushed the gate open, stepped through, and closed it again, slotting the bolt back into place.
From this side of the gate, Abbie could see much of the garden. Vibrant green grass and a border of flowers in all colours, shapes and sizes, belied the winter sky above.
Because Abbie was here to break and enter rather than offer a garden critique, she stepped away from the gate and to the corner of the house, which turned onto the back wall. From here, she could confirm the garden was empty. She turned the corner, putting her shoulder to the house wall. Ahead of her was a set of windows, then a door, then another set of windows. The second set of windows would offer a view into the living room, which ran from the entire length of the house. Abbie guessed the first set looked into the kitchen.
Abbie could crawl under the window to reach the back door without being seen, but this would be a pointless move given the door no doubt opened into the kitchen. She would be heard by any occupants as she tried to pick the lock or seen if the door was open and she could walk right in. Also, crouching under the window would hurt her back.
Before she reached the door, Abbie needed to know who was in the room.
If it was a kitchen, the sink would be against the window. If anyone was washing the dishes or their hands, they would spot Abbie even if she only popped her head up for a split second. With that in mind, Abbie stepped away from the wall and put herself in full view of the window and whoever might be on its other side. If anyone was there, a brother or mother or father of Travis, Abbie would wave. The person in question would be shocked. Surprised. But there would be no fear once they got themselves together because murderers and burglars did not stand in the garden and wave at those in the house. That it was the middle of the day would also help Abbie in this regard, because murderers and burglars are like owls. They operate primarily at night. Abbie would still have to explain herself, but would be given more time to do so if the person to whom she was speaking did not fear she might be concealing in her bag a gun or other deadly weapon.
In any case, it was irrelevant. Abbie stepped in front of the window and saw nothing but an empty kitchen. Keeping the non-threatening smile on her face in case anyone appeared, she proceeded on, past the window to the back door.
Locked, but that was no problem. Abbie crouched and peeked through the keyhole. No key in the lock from