Dark Harbor (Stone Barrington 12)

“No, we wouldn’t,” Stone said. “H

e was trying to be cooperative, against his better instincts, and I didn’t want to piss him off.”

“Why the hell should you care if you piss him off?”

“Because it’s a small island, and I might need some cabinet work done someday. And because we need him.”

“What, that business about breaking into Dick’s house?”

“You know anybody more qualified?”

“Now that you mentioned it, no,” Dino replied, settling down a little. “Of course, it’s a perfect opportunity for him to case the place in preparation for a later visit, maybe in the winter, when you’re not here.”

“No, Rhinehart has too much to lose. He’s got a new life now and, apparently, a good one. He’s not going to piss in his own well.”

“Oh, all right,” Dino said. “I never could talk to you when you get this way.”

RHINEHART SHOWED UP at six, when Stone and Dino were having a drink in the study.

“Would you like a drink, Hal?”

“Thanks, no. I’d better get started. I’m going to go outside, and I want you to go through the house and make sure that every window and door is closed and locked, then turn on the alarm system.” He turned and left.

“You take the upstairs,” Stone said to Dino, then headed for the kitchen. He went around the ground floor, checking and locking windows and doors, then went to the front door, tapped in the alarm code, then back to the study and his drink. Dino was already there. He had barely sat down when he looked up to see Hal Rhinehart standing in the doorway.

“How the hell did you get in?” Dino asked.

“Upstairs bathroom window on the south side,” Rhinehart said.

“What are you, a human fly?”

“No, the climbing part was easy; there was a ladder leaning against the house.”

Stone looked at Dino. “I believe that was one of your windows,” he said. “You want to go close it and double-check the others?”

Dino got up and stalked from the room.

Rhinehart crooked a finger. “Come here, I want to show you something.” He led Stone to the keypad by the front door, then opened the door. “Tap in the code,” he said, looking away.

Stone tapped in the code.

“Now look at the little screen on the keypad. What does it say?”

Stone peered at the screen. “Front door open,” he said.

“Before, it would have said ”Upstairs bathroom window open.“ And the alarm won’t arm if there’s something open. The house has to be sealed tight.”

Dino came back downstairs. “All right, everything’s closed.”

“I’m going outside again,” Rhinehart said. “Arm the alarm.”

Stone did so, then returned to the study with Dino. They had finished their drinks when the front doorbell rang. He went and let Rhinehart in. “Will you have a drink now?”

“Yes, thanks. Scotch, if you have it.”

Stone poured them all another one, and they sat down in front of the fireplace.

“I couldn’t get in,” Rhinehart said. “Not without taking a chainsaw to a wall, anyway. This is the most secure family home I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in a lot of them. The front door is steel, sheathed in mahogany; the windows are steel and the glass armored; and there are no gaps in the installation—every door and window is alarmed.”