Chapter Sixty-Five

It took Shannon less than two minutes to get back to Hunter with an address for the license plate number that he'd given her. That address took him to a cul-de-sac, high in Hollywood Hills.

The first thing that Hunter noticed as he switched off his headlights and turned right into the isolated road was that there were only five houses on that street, with plenty of trees in between them. Two of the houses seemed to be vacant, with a ‘For Sale' sign on the front lawn. The one that he was looking for was the very last property at the top of the cul-de-sac.

The two-story house looked spacious enough, with three large front windows – two on the bottom floor and one on the top one – a gable roof, a patchy front lawn and a ranch-style front porch. The iron fence that surrounded the house was there for aesthetic reasons, not security, which allowed Hunter to breach it with ease.

He could see no lights on anywhere.

To the right of the house there was a two-car garage. The driveway that led up to it was made up of poorly laid-out and uneven concrete slabs, most of which were cracked and warped, with grass and weeds having sprung out along the joints. The garage door was closed and there was no vehicle parked either on the driveway or in front of the house.

Hunter quickly walked up to the garage and tried the door. To his surprise, it was unlocked. Hoping that the hinges wouldn't squeak too loudly, he carefully lifted the door, but only enough for him to be able to stoop under it.

The hinges didn't scream at all.

Inside the garage, Hunter found two vehicles parked side by side – a 2020 Cajun Red Chevrolet Impala, and a 2021 Dodge RAM 3500 pickup truck – the same Dodge RAM pickup truck that he'd asked Shannon to locate just a little while ago. Both vehicles were locked and clearly alarmed.

Hunter exited the garage and walked back to the house. Despite the curtains that covered both front windows being drawn shut, he could still tell that there was no light coming from behind them.

He tried the front door – locked.

He tried the windows – locked.

Hunter rounded the property as far as he could, before a hedge fence, by the back of the house, stopped him from going any further. On the way, he passed two other windows – curtains drawn… no lights… both locked.

Just a few feet from the hedge fence, on the right side of the house, there was a glass-panel door. Hunter used his flashlight against one of the panels to peek inside. The door led into what appeared to be a large utilities room. From outside, Hunter couldn't see much, just a washing machine, a tumble dryer, several shelves packed with what seemed to be canned food, and several stacked-up cardboard boxes.

He tried the handle on the door – locked.

Police protocol dictated that he should first ring the doorbell and talk to whomever came to the door… if anyone did. But if he was at the right place – and his gut feeling was telling him that he was – then ringing the doorbell would only serve to alert whomever was inside, and Hunter wasn't about to do that.

According to California state law, an officer needed a warrant to enter a private property without the consent of the owner. But, like with every law, there were exceptions. One of those exceptions was if the officer had reason to believe that a life could be in danger inside the property.

Hunter used his elbow to give one of the glass panels a firm knock. It smashed without too much noise, as the glass pieces fell onto a doormat on the inside. He cleared away the remaining glass shards and carefully unlocked the door.

No alarm.

Weapon and flashlight in hand, Hunter pulled the door open and finally entered the house.