Guilty Photographs

by S I Taylor

  Nixon noticed the guard’s furrowed brow and his pensive stare. “It was changed to this week. I thought the secretary mentioned it to them,” Nixon quickly said.

  “We can come back next week, but by then the infestation can further spread, causing the foundation—which, by the way, is constructed from wood—in the homes to become spongelike, rot, weaken, and eventually cause the entire home to collapse. I’ve seen it happen in less than three days,” Barbara told the guard.

  “I’ve seen it happen in two days,” Nixon added for dramatic effect.

  “If you’re willing to wait for next week we don’t have an issue, but our pricing will increase, and you’ll have more than a pest problem at that point. Where can we make a U-turn to head back onto the road?” Barbara continued.

  He looked worried and couldn’t decide on what to do. “Wait here,” the guard said.

  He went back inside the guard shack and it looked like he was communicating with the association representative on the phone.

  He must have been on the phone for about five minutes as Barbara and Nixon sat in the van waiting for his return.

  Barbara was getting impatient and the longer they waited the longer the association and the guard had time to think things through and possibly call the actual pest agency to confirm.

  “Sir, are you letting us out or what? We have other homes on our list to inspect,” Barbara shouted from across the passenger side.

  “Wait a minute.” The guard peeked from behind his desk.

  He returned a moment later holding a tri-fold paper. He provided them with a brochure. “The association representative approved your entrance. Follow this map to guide you throughout the property. The homes circled in red are the homes that are vacant, and the others are occupied but some tenants aren’t home. The cleaning personnel should let you inside if there’s any concern. This is the guards’ office number and this is the association number,” he said as he highlighted the phone numbers he mentioned.

  “Wise decision. Thank you,” Nixon said.

  Nixon took the brochure and the map and handed it to Barbara on the passenger side.

  He drove the van up the trail. The community was well kept and maintained. It was very picturesque. Seemed like the type of neighborhood you’d see in a movie depicting the perfect scene. Manicured shrubs, trees, flowers, and grass. All the homes were painted with the same three colors: cream, brown, and white. This community seemed almost too perfect—robotic even.

  Nixon parked the van at different homes, visiting each, spraying the concoction in the container in a systematic motion to make their scheme believable. Each home had its peculiar charm and luxurious intricacies. They visited their designated target and made it the fourth house on their list to eliminate suspicion.

  The home was immaculate. Terracotta tiled floors, a weird bust of someone she presumed to be the owner, paintings by famous Italian painters, colorful walls, a library with Spanish and Italian books. The house was the most diverse she had seen. It was over the top in every aspect.

  They made certain not to speak and only communicate through eye contact and hand gesture. Nixon didn’t want to leave their voices in case the owners had cameras recording. Nixon planted one of his gadgets in the home to hack the surveillance system once he returned to his apartment. Both Barbara and Nixon kept their heads down. Even though they were wearing disguises and wigs they needed to be careful. They completed their task, loaded everything in the van, and left.

  Nixon walked to the driver’s side as Barbara was already in the van. The two were covered in sweat after three hours of hard, unpaid labor.

  Nixon drove up to the guards’ gatehouse, waved to the guard, who was sitting reading a newspaper—typical of a man his age. Seeing them, the guard approached the van as Nixon placed it in park.

  “We’re going to return in two days for assessment,” Nixon said.

  The guard rested his hands on the door and peered inside the van. “You found something?” he asked.

  Nixon angled his body to block the guard’s view from potentially identifying them or anything in the van. The less the old man knew the better for them and his outcome. Nixon smiled at the guard. His smile was contagious and charming in a n almost hypnotic sort of way, and coupled with his smooth voice was dynamic package. “It’s part of the package that we offer. We come for a preliminary inspection, we spray, and then we return to assess the outcome.”

  It was almost too hard not to believe Nixon’s logic and the old man was no exception. “Sounds good to me. See you in two days,” the guard said.

  Nixon raised his two long fingers high enough for the guard to see. The guard acknowledged the gesture with his two arthritic fingers, a curt nod, and a smile. The old man had warmed up to Nixon. “Yeah. Two days,” Nixon said. He placed the van in drive and watched as the guard took a step back.

  They both waved goodbye and the guard raised the pole barrier. They exited the community, made a right, and followed the road to the main street.

  Nixon sped down the freeway toward G’s shop.

  “Did you notice that the room the safe was located is a laundry room? Are you sure the device tracked the correct area?” she asked.

  She looked at Nixon as she sat back in the plush gray seat. Trying to get a reaction and a read of his thoughts as he drove.

  “I’m positive. My designs come with a certified seal of perfection,” he said. His voice was calm and his posture was reassuring. He seemed confident in his gadgets and Barbara trusted his judgment and she trusted him.

  “Ha, very funny. But why would they keep jewels in a laundry area?” she asked.

  “Probably to ward off thieves.”

  She raised her eyebrow, wanting to ignore his comment, but decided to respond instead.

  “Yeah, it’s rather a unique location, but we figured it out.” She smirked.

  He gave her a weak smile and she knew the meaning behind that smile. Being in that confined space with him was confusing her emotions and battling with the logic her mind forced her heart to comprehend.

  “We’re going to start the job in two days. That should give us enough time to prepare and get the necessary supplies and tweak any gadgets I’ll use,” he said, breaking the silence. “Barbara, we still have time to back away. I haven’t spent the money.”

  Nixon didn’t particularly sounded scared but rather cautious as if warning that she could back away if she wanted to or maybe he was just making sure she was still on board with the job. But Barbara wanted nothing more than to get this job over with and finally leave Huntersville.

  “You can’t get cold feet now. We’re in way too deep. I can’t go back on my word. I really need this to go right. Get your head in the game.”

  “I’m worried for your safety. I want you to have someone else with you in there, since I can’t be physically there,” he said.

  Traffic on the freeway gave him a chance to glance at her. His eyes met hers and she for a brief moment considered his words and saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.

  But unlike a wave receding back to the ocean her resolution was firm and she wasn’t backing down. Her decision was final.

  Fisting her hands, she contained her frustration but she spoke softly. “No, Nixon. We discussed it and we’re not involving anyone else!”

  He glanced at her while he gripped the steering wheel hard and then focused his attention back on the road.

  “All right. We need to perfect our strategy and I want to ensure that your gadgets are one hundred percent effective,” he said.

  She sat back, relieved that she had finally convinced him. “Okay, do you need me to do anything?” she asked.

  “That won’t be necessary. This is behind-the-scenes work.”

  The silence was unnerving. She switched the radio on and started humming along to the jazz tunes.

  She could feel him glance at her. Ever since he’d heard her singing, she felt at ease letting a piece of herself go around him. H
e was slowly peeling away her tough exterior and she needed to be careful. She couldn’t let her guard down now. She had come too far to get wrapped up in any relationship.

  “Did you see the guard’s face when we told him about the possible pest infestation if we didn’t do it today?” he said, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, he was really worried. I felt bad for lying to him, but we needed to get a feel for the place.”

  He suddenly started jerking the vehicle from side to side. “We’re being chased.” He increased his velocity and Barbara looked around frantically.

  “By whom?”

  “No time to figure that out.” He started going around traffic until he exited and parked the vehicle in an alley.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, I wanted to see your reaction.” He laughed.

  “You freaking made that shit up?” She furrowed her brow.

  “Yeah, you looked like you needed to loosen up a little.”

  “Damn it, Nixon.” She sighed. “You had me there for a second. That wasn’t funny.” But she grinned, knowing that the stress of the day had in fact caused her to be uptight.

  “So why are you smiling?” A smile smeared across his face.

  “No reason.”

  “Come on. I’m hungry and I’m sure you are too. There’s this burger place I stumbled upon not too long ago that I want you to try out.”

  “Okay. I’m only agreeing because I’m hungry, otherwise I would’ve declined.”

  “Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

  “Yes, really.” And she hopped out of the van.

  Chapter 14

  As Nixon watched her hop out of the van he wished they were on a date right now, so he could hold her hand and keep her close.

  But for now, he was content that she’d at least decided to accompany him, even though she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  “I knew if I asked you to come you’d make up a lame excuse for me to take you home,” he told her.

  She looked at him and squinted as they stood behind the van staring at each other.

  “You’re right, I don’t think I would’ve agreed to come.” She looked away, not meeting his gaze.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered.

  He grabbed her hand and sped up out of the alley toward the sidewalk and crossed the street. She trailed behind him, holding on tight, sending shivers through his body.

  They ran through the crowd of people walking and ran around the vendors on the sidewalk. He knew he couldn’t take his time and think with her. He had to act on impulse. He had to take her out of her controlling comfort zone.

  The sun shining above them and the wind blowing around them reminded him of how it felt to be young again without a care. He looked back at her and she had a smile on her face. A genuine smile, he thought.

  “We should do this more often,” he told her.

  “We should do what?” she shouted, unable to decipher what he was saying from the honking horns, music playing from local shops, and people talking.

  He turned around before responding, concentrating on the run ahead.

  They caught their breath before they arrived at a small restaurant. She quickly released his hand and looked shyly away. The place was in between several large stores and the only way it would catch anyone’s attention was the bright green neon color painted on the walls.

  Tom’s Burger Shack had only four tables and at each table two seats. They’d arrived at the end of the rush-hour crowd. The small place had a strong scent of grilled burgers and fries. The walls were painted a bright green with menus displayed throughout the restaurant and pictures of the items next to each description.

  “You’ll like the food here. They’re famous for their double cheddar cheeseburger with maple bacon and their loaded curly fries.”

  “Great, then I’ll have one of those.”

  Her hands squeezed into her pockets and she pulled a few bills and placed them on the counter.

  Without hesitation he took her hands and placed the money back in her palms. He looked at her, his eye piercing through hers. And for an instant she felt chills run down the nape go her neck to her back.

  “Barbie doll,” her name rolled from his tongue and his gaze were back to its bright brown color. His other hand stroke her cheeks as he spoke softly. “You’re insulting me. I brought you here on false pretense so let me repay you by being the gentleman that I and pay for your meal.”

  She nodded and smiled weakly. “Okay.”

  He cocked his head to the far end of the restaurant gesturing for her to take the table in the back.

  Nixon nodded, smiled, and said, “thank you,” and walked up to the counter as she walked to the back of the restaurant and sat at the last table closest to the wall.

  She tucked the money crumpled in her palm back inside her pocket.

  The counter took up most of the space in the small restaurant and behind the counter was a young boy who should probably be at school. He took their order, and Nixon paid for the meal. He walked toward Barbara and sat across from her.

  She smiled at him. “You didn’t play fair back there.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I have no recollection of what you’re talking about.”

  She playfully threw a crumpled napkin at him. He caught it midair before it hit him. She looked around, admiring the place.

  “I’m surprised I never heard of this place,” she said.

  “I came here once with a client.”

  She raised her eyebrow, surprised. “I didn’t think any of your clients would be in this part of Huntersville.”

  “Yeah, this was a side hustle,” he told her.

  She nodded suspiciously and decided not to pry into personal matters. Besides, he didn’t owe her an explanation about what he did on his personal time.

  “I don’t only work with you on the side, Barbara. There are things about me that you don’t know, or maybe you don’t care or want to know.”

  She looked away. “It’s not that, Nixon. I feel as if the less I know the less involved I get.”

  The same young boy brought them their order and placed a pitcher of soft drink, water, and two empty cups on the table.

  “Great, the food’s here. I was starving,” she said, grateful for the interruption. “You didn’t order a burger?”

  “I did. I just asked them to remove the buns.”

  “Um, okay. So you recommended something that you didn’t even order.” She laughed.

  “I don’t eat carbs, remember? And I did order the same, minus the fries and the bun. Besides, the sauce is what makes the burger taste great.”

  “You know that the sauce has more calories than the bun or the fries, right?”

  “I know, but I’m not worried about calories. I’m concerned about the carbs, Barbie doll, the carbs.”

  “Okay, okay, geesh. Well, in that case, bon appétit.”

  She started eating, avoiding eye contact. He was sure she wanted to end that conversation and the food just happened to come at the right instance.

  They ate in silence.

  “Thank you for suggesting this place, even though it wasn’t the right way to suggest coming to eat,” she said, breaking the tension between them.

  He flashed a smile and sat back, looking at her. “I know.”

  “You’re ready to leave?” she asked.

  “Not really. I want to savor this moment. Even if we’re here on pretense that I was hungry,” he said.

  He knew he made her slightly uncomfortable but at this point he didn’t care. He wanted her to know how he truly felt because deep down he knew she felt it too. He placed his hands on top of hers on the table.

  “Nixon, you know I don’t want to tread through that topic again. I want us to be friends and nothing more,” she said as she slowly removed her hands and placed them on her lap.

  “I hope you know that the more you push me away the faster I’ll be slipping throug
h the cracks. I won’t be waiting forever and when you want the real me it may be too late,” he said as he looked intently at her.

  Her gaze looked surprised but then settled away from him. “Let’s go. We need to get going and park the van at Iggy’s place.” She spoke too fast, dismissing his feelings as if she didn’t care.

  He walked toward the door and watched her walk past him. He caught a whiff of her scent and he promised himself that this would be the last time he spoke to her about his feelings. If that was what she wanted, then he would grant her that need. He’d been waiting for her for far too long and he no longer wanted to waste his time on someone who was scared of the unknown.

  He suppressed the urge to touch her once more. Instead he walked swiftly through the small crowd ahead of her as she tried to keep up.

  They arrived at the back alley where the van was parked and drove in silence to their destination.

  They arrived at G’s shop a few minutes later, parked the van in the garage, and left in Nixon’s gunmetal-black Charger.

  Chapter 15

  Coolidge and McKinley were sitting at a round table in the dining area of his hotel room—which resembled a small efficiency apartment—on a telephone conference call with Bush on speaker.

  Coolidge stood and walked through the carpeted bedroom to the kitchenette for two bottles of water. And as she returned, she muted the TV on top of the large dresser and sat across from McKinley as she handed him the bottled water.

  “Bush, we need to get the surveillance camera from the warehouse,” McKinley said.

  “I’ve been working on it, but the angles are not directed on the people who were there. It was mostly focused on the front door, the outside gate, and the four corners of the facility. We can only see the four go in the warehouse. The focus on the four is blurry, as the lighting was not good enough and the camera pixels were crappy at best. Also, the image is in black and white. Two tall men enter first, then the girl, and the shorter one enters last,” Bush said.

  Both Coolidge and McKinley looked at one another. Coolidge was pissed that the tape didn’t reveal much of anything. McKinley furrowed his brow, rubbing his temple, trying to think of something.