Jasper Ford laughed with good nature. “Can’t be too careful.”

“That’s my motto.”

“Good fences make for good neighbors.”

“Except that there’s no fence.” Drex looked across the uninterrupted expanse of grass between the two properties. Coming back to Jasper Ford’s dark gaze, he said, “I’ll confine my rude behavior to this side of the property line. You’ll never know I’m here.”

Jasper smiled, but before he could comment, his cell phone signaled a text. “Excuse me.” He took the phone from his shirt pocket.

While he was reading the text, Drex arched his back in an overextended stretch that caused him to wince, and took another swallow of beer.

“My wife,” Jasper said as he thumbed off his phone. “Her flight has been weather delayed. She’s stuck at O’Hare.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Happens a lot,” he said somewhat absently as he glanced over his shoulder toward his house, then came back around to Drex. “How about some surf and turf?”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve got crab cakes ready for the pan. Steaks marinating. No sense in half of it going to waste.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“If it was going to be an imposition, I wouldn’t have invited you.”

“Well…” Scratching his unshaven cheek, Drex pretended to ponder it. “I haven’t stocked the pantry or fridge yet. I’ve been subsisting on fast food.”

Jasper chuckled. “I can do better than that. See you at sunset. We’ll have drinks on the porch.” He reached out and took Drex’s beer bottle. “I’ll toss this for you.”

Drex stepped out of the shower and reached for his ringing cell phone, which he’d balanced on the rim of the sink. He looked to see who was calling, then clicked on. “Hey.”

“How are you faring?” Mike asked.

“Right now, good. I’m standing naked and wet under a ceiling fan.”

“Spare me.”

“The fan squeaks, but this is the coolest I’ve been since I got here. Why didn’t you tell me this apartment wasn’t air-conditioned?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Once it had been decided among the three of them that Jasper Ford warranted further investigation, Drex flew to Charleston. He wasted no time in driving to Mount Pleasant and locating the Fords’ home.

Google Earth hadn’t done it justice. The two-story house was built of brick, painted white. Classically southern in design, a deep front porch ran the width of the façade, twin columns framing a glossy black front door with a brass knocker in the shape of a pineapple. The house was surrounded by a sprawling lawn and shaded by decades-old trees.

The residence looked lived in. Blooming flowers in all the beds. Thriving ferns on the porches. An American flag hanging from the eaves. Newspaper and mail delivery.

By contrast, the house next door looked less tended, and for the three nights Drex surveilled it, lights came on at the same time, went off at the same time. Timed to do so. No flowers, ferns, or mail.

He returned to Lexington, briefed Mike and Gif, and instructed Mike to find out who owned the property neighboring the Fords’, which appeared to be a second home or otherwise infrequently occupied.

Mike did his due diligence, got a name and contact info off tax records.

Then Drex did his thing. He made a cold call to Mr. Arnott, who, with his wife, resided most of the year in Pennsylvania, but, upon retirement, had purchased the place in South Carolina to escape the cold and snow.

Drex, laying it on thick, told him of his situation, which was a complete fabrication. Then he got down to the heart of the matter. He was seeking temporary lodging in or near Charleston. During a scouting expedition to see what might be available, he’d crossed the Cooper River into Mount Pleasant, and as he was driving around getting the lay of the land, so to speak, he’d spotted the garage apartment. It was ideal: Secluded. Quiet. A “cabin in the woods,” within the confines of a scenic and safe neighborhood.

The apartment would provide all the space he required. He would live there alone, no pets. He was a nonsmoker. And, in the bargain, he would keep an eye on the main house.

“Honestly, Mr. Arnott, if I’d been a burglar, I’d have chosen your house to break into. It’s obvious that you’re an absentee owner.”

When Arnott hedged, Drex was tempted to play his FBI card. He didn’t, fearing it would be tipped to Jasper Ford that he had a fed moving in next door to him. Instead he provided Arnott several fictitious references, all written by Gif, whom Arnott actually called to confirm his high recommendation. Mike also got a call to verify the reference letter signed by him. Between them, they convinced Mr. Arnott that Drex Easton was a man of sound mind, good character, and everything he claimed to be.

Arnott agreed to lease him the apartment for the requested three months, although Drex would be there for only two weeks—his allotted vacation time. Only Mike and Gif would know how his time away was being utilized. Until he had a major breakthrough, he was keeping everyone else in the dark.

Besides, asking Arnott for a three-month lease lent credibility to his story and made him seem like a stabler, more responsible tenant. He paid the full amount of rent up front.

“Besides no AC, how is it?” Mike asked now. “Are you moved in?”

From the open bathroom door, Drex could see practically the entire apartment, and virtually every square inch of it was empty, as had been most of the boxes he’d carted up the stairs for the benefit of his audience next door. The apartment had come furnished, though sparsely. He’d brought only the essentials needed to keep himself clothed and groomed. He’d brought a coffeemaker, but he hadn’t lied about a steady diet of fast food.

“All settled in,” he told Mike. “My laptop is on the kitchen table. My pistol is between the mattress and box spring.”

“In other words, it’s the same as your place here,” Mike said. “And you’ve lived here for how long?”

“Is there a reason for this call? If so, get to it. Because I don’t want to be late for my date.”

“In two days’ time you’ve already lined up a girl?” Mike said. “When you said ‘fully cocked,’ you really meant it? I’ll have to check my charts, but I think this might be a record.”

“There’s no girl, and cut the bullshit. Is Gif with you? Put me on speaker.” When Drex could tell that Mike had switched over, he said, “Jasper Ford invited me over for dinner tonight.”

After a second or two of stunned silence, Mike and Gif exclaimed their surprise.

“Here I have my high-powered binocs focused, all set up to spy on him, and he comes over today with a cold beer and a handshake, welcoming me to the neighborhood. I’m glad he made the first move. That saved me from having to devise a way to put me in his path and make his acquaintance.”

He gave them a run-down of their conversation. “It was casual, friendly, but definitely an appraisal. When he saw me moving in, he called Arnott to check me out.”

“Paranoid, you think?” Gif asked.

“Or just a watchful property owner, cautious of strangers,” Mike said. “Anybody in that kind of neighborhood would be.”