A Saturday evening, warm and still. Late enough to be dark but early enough that people were still out doing the things regular people do on Saturday nights. (Even for me, banditry was not exactly normal weekend recreation.)I pulled my bike up to the mailbox at the gated entrance and looked up. Neat little lights lined up like candy buttons on the driveway. A few lights had been left on in the house, too, strategically, for security purposes, but I knew for a fact that Kellie was at UA, and her parents were in Europe.Beyond the mansard roof was a perfect view of the mountains, rising cool and shadowy in the distance. I smiled, nervous but inspired. This was my first attempt at jacking a house, and I was basically starting at the top. Why mess around with a little rancher when I could go straight for a multimillion-dollar estate?I tucked my bike under a puffy oleander bush to the right of the gate. It wasn’t the greatest getaway vehicle, but without an accomplice it was going to have to do.
