Read No Sanctuary for Free Online Page A

if to adjust the fit of the pack.
    The wet patch on her pocket was still dark.
    She turned away and started walking down the trail.
    Rick looked back at the car. Then peered into the deep shadows among the trees. Get a grip, Rick. There are no boogey men out there. Believe me
    Hurrying to catch up with Bert, he began to sing. “Please Mr. Custer, I don’t wanna go.”

Chapter Five
    The parking area under Gillian’s apartment building was deserted. She slid her suitcase onto the floor of the car in front of the passenger seat, set down her purse, then went around to the rear and opened the trunk. Reaching inside a nylon satchel, she took out a pair of license plates. It was one of six sets she had removed, late one night last month, from cars parked along a secluded lane in Brentwood. She had used WonderGlu to fix strong magnets onto the back of each plate.
    She covered her own plates with the stolen ones, and drove out.
    She shivered as she drove. The tremors seemed stronger, less pleasant than usual.
    Maybe this is too soon, Gillian thought. Maybe I’m pressing my luck.
    Nothing to worry about, she told herself. You’ve never been caught, and there was only that one close call.
    That, and the house on Silverston.
    The “close call” had happened nearly a year ago. She’d been swimming in the pool at the Farnsworth house in Ran-cho Park when car doors thudded shut nearby. Thrusting herself out of the water, she ran dripping to the comer of the house. From there, she saw the roof of a van beyond the top of the gate. She heard quiet voices. The Farnsworths weren’t due home for two more days, but they must have cut their trip short. In seconds, they would find themselves prevented from entering the front door because of the burglar bar. When that happened, they were bound to come through the gate to try a back door. Gillian, choked with panic, raced around the end of the pool. At the rear of the yard, she sprang at the redwood fence, boosted herself up and squirmed over the top, scraping her thigh in the process. She dropped into the alley on the other side.
    Fortunately, she’d left her car parked around a comer from the Farnsworth house, with an ignition key in a magnetized compartment under the rear bumper.
    That wasn’t good fortune, she thought, that was good planning.
    The good planning also paid off in that Gillian had taken nothing into the house that could be used to identify her. She lost her suitcase, clothes, security bars, purse and camera (along with a roll of film in the camera that must’ve given the Farnsworths food for thought if they had it developed), but nothing to give them any clues as to who the owner might be.
    Still, it had been a narrow escape. She’d sworn off intrusions for good after that.
    As time passed, however, the urge had grown. Three weeks later, she was inside another house. It had been scary for a while, but soon the fear of being discovered had faded and she’d had no more problems.
    So why, tonight, was her usual anticipation tainted by a shadow of dread?
     
    Gillian parked in front of the house. Light shone through the closed draperies of the living room, but that was normal; most people had timing devices to activate a lamp and make their homes look occupied while they were away.
    She shut off her engine and headbeams, and got out of the car. As she walked around to the passenger door, she eyed the next-door houses. The one with the realtor’s sign was dark. The other had lights on, but no car in the driveway. The owners might be home, but there was a good chance they were out enjoying themselves.
    Ten o’clock on a Saturday night was the ideal time for Gillian to make her entries: too early for most people to return home from movies or dinner parties; not so late that her arrival, if noticed by a neighbor, would draw much suspicion.
    Especially not the way she was dressed.
    Gillian opened the passenger door. She took out her purse and suitcase, and walked casually