the other. She could hear the muffled shatter of the ceramic tiles. They picked up each box and put them back randomly among the other untouched boxes.
“Any more?”
“No. She said no more than three.”
Ellis knew exactly what “she” was up to. One box of shattered tiles wouldn’t hinder the job. They always ordered about ten percent more tiles than needed to make up for waste, off-cuts, etc. But three boxes meant that there was no way the installers could finish the job without a reorder. Why would someone want to sabotage her bathroom?
“What a waste, man,” Thug said. “Why couldn’t we just take them?”
“She said we could take other stuff, but she wanted the M7s smashed.”
“Yeah, but we could have sold these dude.”
“Don’t be greedy,” Jim said and they both burst out laughing at some private joke.
Ellis and Simon watched as the truck was loaded with odd boxes of supplies. Thug and Jim were careful not to take much of any one item. The morning crew wouldn’t even be aware that there was a theft. They took lumber, a ladder and a selection of miscellaneous hardware, just enough to cause delays and have a few folks scratching their heads thinking “now where did I leave that” or “I must have miscalculated the order”.
“Let’s do the inside,” Jim said, standing back and surveying their hoard.
They hopped in the truck and drove around to the front.
As soon as the tail lights rounded the eastern corner of the house, Simon grabbed her by the hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get in the back door before they get in the front.”
They took off at a run toward the back door. Ellis struggled to keep pace with Simon’s long-legged stride. He flung the back door open, pausing only for a split second to listen for the position of the two men, who had not yet entered the house.
“Stay here,” Simon instructed.
Like hell , thought Ellis, following closely behind Simon as he ran toward the foyer. He needed to turn on the alarm so the thieves wouldn’t be tipped off to their presence. He got to the numbered pad just as the thugs were slamming the doors of the truck outside.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-five—
“Two!” Ellis hissed. “Forty-two!”
“Damn it!” He stole a glance through the sidelights and saw them coming up the porch steps.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, ON. The digital display read “alarm enabled”.
The key slid into the lock, trapping Simon and Ellis in the foyer. They had no time to run across the endless front hall back to the kitchen. As Simon was judging the distance to the west hall, Ellis pulled him toward the coat closet near to the front door. It was a risky move, going toward the entrance instead of away from it, and they ducked in just as Jim swung the front door open. The alarm beeped in two-second intervals, warning the entrants to punch in the alarm code within thirty seconds. Simon heard them fumbling at the keypad inches away from the closet.
“Where to, man?” Thug asked.
“Just gimme a sec. I gotta think,” Jim said as the keypad continued to beep. “Four, eight…” He continued until the beeping stopped.
They could hear Thug’s heavy footsteps retreat across the hall then back again.
“Jim, there’s a light on down there,” he said quietly.
Ellis froze. Thug must have looked down the west wing hall and seen the office lights on. They would know she was here. She found Simon’s hand in the empty darkness of the cramped two-by-four enclosure and squeezed, communicating both apology for leaving the light on and fear.
“You stay here,” Jim ordered. “It’s probably just Goldilocks.”
Who? Simon squeezed her hand reassuringly while they waited. If the situation wasn’t so horrible, Ellis might have enjoyed the closeness. His strong callused hand spread warmth through her
“Any more?”
“No. She said no more than three.”
Ellis knew exactly what “she” was up to. One box of shattered tiles wouldn’t hinder the job. They always ordered about ten percent more tiles than needed to make up for waste, off-cuts, etc. But three boxes meant that there was no way the installers could finish the job without a reorder. Why would someone want to sabotage her bathroom?
“What a waste, man,” Thug said. “Why couldn’t we just take them?”
“She said we could take other stuff, but she wanted the M7s smashed.”
“Yeah, but we could have sold these dude.”
“Don’t be greedy,” Jim said and they both burst out laughing at some private joke.
Ellis and Simon watched as the truck was loaded with odd boxes of supplies. Thug and Jim were careful not to take much of any one item. The morning crew wouldn’t even be aware that there was a theft. They took lumber, a ladder and a selection of miscellaneous hardware, just enough to cause delays and have a few folks scratching their heads thinking “now where did I leave that” or “I must have miscalculated the order”.
“Let’s do the inside,” Jim said, standing back and surveying their hoard.
They hopped in the truck and drove around to the front.
As soon as the tail lights rounded the eastern corner of the house, Simon grabbed her by the hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get in the back door before they get in the front.”
They took off at a run toward the back door. Ellis struggled to keep pace with Simon’s long-legged stride. He flung the back door open, pausing only for a split second to listen for the position of the two men, who had not yet entered the house.
“Stay here,” Simon instructed.
Like hell , thought Ellis, following closely behind Simon as he ran toward the foyer. He needed to turn on the alarm so the thieves wouldn’t be tipped off to their presence. He got to the numbered pad just as the thugs were slamming the doors of the truck outside.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-five—
“Two!” Ellis hissed. “Forty-two!”
“Damn it!” He stole a glance through the sidelights and saw them coming up the porch steps.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, ON. The digital display read “alarm enabled”.
The key slid into the lock, trapping Simon and Ellis in the foyer. They had no time to run across the endless front hall back to the kitchen. As Simon was judging the distance to the west hall, Ellis pulled him toward the coat closet near to the front door. It was a risky move, going toward the entrance instead of away from it, and they ducked in just as Jim swung the front door open. The alarm beeped in two-second intervals, warning the entrants to punch in the alarm code within thirty seconds. Simon heard them fumbling at the keypad inches away from the closet.
“Where to, man?” Thug asked.
“Just gimme a sec. I gotta think,” Jim said as the keypad continued to beep. “Four, eight…” He continued until the beeping stopped.
They could hear Thug’s heavy footsteps retreat across the hall then back again.
“Jim, there’s a light on down there,” he said quietly.
Ellis froze. Thug must have looked down the west wing hall and seen the office lights on. They would know she was here. She found Simon’s hand in the empty darkness of the cramped two-by-four enclosure and squeezed, communicating both apology for leaving the light on and fear.
“You stay here,” Jim ordered. “It’s probably just Goldilocks.”
Who? Simon squeezed her hand reassuringly while they waited. If the situation wasn’t so horrible, Ellis might have enjoyed the closeness. His strong callused hand spread warmth through her
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