Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

The key fit perfectly and he felt somewhat guilty about entering this way, after all he was a pro and didn’t need the extra help to gain entrance, but the ‘employers’ had insisted that he use the means they provided to leave minimal clues and shake up the public even further. He placed his ear very close to the glass insert in the rear door to confirm no one was still moving about inside before he tried to turn the key. His heart raced as his adrenalin began to kick in and his senses were heightened to the level of a world-class athlete. No sounds reverberated through the glass and he felt it safe to try the lock. He turned his wrist but the key did not budge.

“What the hell,” he thought, and he exerted more pressure on the lock without success.

The key was pulled free of the lock and he inspected it the best he could in the non-existent light. He ran his fingers over the ridges of the key, feeling for burs or irregularities, nothing. Once again the key was inserted into the lock making sure that it hit bottom and he turned, still nothing, and he dared not force the key any more to prevent it from breaking off in the lock.

Somewhere in his memory he recalled his father complaining about a new house key he’d had cut that wouldn’t work. They had returned to the True Value store and the clerk had instructed them to wiggle the key up and down while turning. Apparently, it was not uncommon for new keys to take a few weeks of use before they wore down slightly and worked more efficiently, especially in older locks.

It was still too early to try such an experiment with this particular key and he opted to wait until 1:00 a.m. before trying again. He picked up his bag and moved to a shadowed corner of the yard and sat in the dark, waiting for the next few minutes to pass. While waiting, he removed the camera from the bag and tested the image quality by taking a picture of the back of the house. Not bad, but not great either and he dared not use the flash, at least not outside where it could be seen for miles. Instead he changed the setting for shooting night scenes, opened up the aperture and took a picture of the house again with his face smiling into the camera, taking up a third of the image.

“Good start,” he thought, before returning the camera to the bag.

At exactly 1:00 a.m. he brought the key back to the lock and gently jiggled it up and down while applying some rotational force. Click! It moved and the sound of the lock giving way brought a sigh of relief to his lips. He very carefully and slowly opened the door, feeling for any obstruction that may bang against the back of the door that he had not anticipated. Nothing. It opened enough for him to slide in, including his bag, leaving his shoes on the porch.

He wore latex gloves without the powder, a hair net under the bandana wrapped firmly around his head. Black makeup had been smeared over the surface of his face while he had sat in the corner of the yard, not so much to assist while in the house but just in case he needed to make a quick getaway, he’d be harder to see moving outdoors. The first thing he needed to do was secure the location and make sure Katie was in the bedroom asleep.

He had looked over the pictures and schematic of the interior enough that he felt like he had been there before, but of course he had not. He left the kitchen, turned down a narrow hallway, passed a bathroom and laundry room on his right and a spare bedroom on his left. Katie’s room was directly at the end of the hall. There were no lights on and the door was open about ten inches.

At the door, he stood holding his breath and listened. He could just make out the rhythmic breathing of someone sleeping so he pushed the door open just enough to poke his head around to get a look at the widow. The room was not entirely dark; an en suite bathroom positioned toward the front of the house had the door slightly ajar and the light on. He didn’t find this unusual, as his parents had done the same thing for years when they’d gotten older, made it so much easier to get to the toilet in the middle of the night without breaking one’s neck.

He could make out Katherine’s form in the bed. She was lying on her right side, head on a pillow with a sheet covering her, except for her left leg extending from underneath the sheet, lying atop another pillow in the middle of the bed. Her left arm wrapped tightly around the top of the same pillow pulling it close to her chest. The in and out of her breathing was almost hypnotic and helped him relax as he surveyed the room. The foot of the bed faced the door and the lighting from the bathroom would provide better pictures when he was ready.

He pulled the door closed, not letting the latch catch but having the jam provide enough friction that the door was almost shut, and he returned to the kitchen. On the table he removed the camera from the bag, along with a can of red spray paint and four flat pieces of plastic, which he would soon use to help him move the heavier pieces of furniture. First off he needed something to eat.

Opening the fridge with his gloved hand, he looked for something that struck his fancy. Orange juice and milk made him think of breakfast so he removed the two items from the refrigerator and sat them on the counter. Carefully opening the cupboards he used his LED penlight to search for a bowl and some cereal. He assumed every home in America surely would have some type of cereal. It didn’t take him long to find everything he was looking for, however, he was not entirely pleased with the brands of cereal that Katie had available, but he settled on the Raisin Bran and poured himself a small bowl, covering the flakes with milk.

Sitting at the table in the dark he drank his glass of juice and ate the cereal, always listening for any movement from the back bedroom. Nothing came as he polished off the snack but before cleaning up he positioned his Polaroid camera across the table from himself, lined it up so it would take the image from his mouth and down, showing the juice glass in one hand and a spoonful of cereal in the other, as well as capturing the bowl on the table with his torso behind.

He positioned the penlight in such a way to help illuminate the picture without providing additional clues as to who he was, but wanted to send a message that he could come into any home and do whatever he wanted. The picture turned out exactly as he had hoped, not too much detail but enough to see what he was doing. The Polaroid went back into the backpack and he removed the digital camera.

The living room was just off the kitchen and at the front of the house. The main entry led here and the room was fairly dark, even with the large bay window curtains open, due to the abundance of trees outside blocking most of the light from the moon and stars. He crossed the room, closed the curtains and found a small table lamp, which he turned on. Not enough light to alert a sleepless neighbor but enough to help him accomplish his task at hand.

In the room she had two recliners positioned across from a 42” television sitting atop an entertainment center that was full of DVD’s and a sound system. There were two oval end tables, each topped with small lamps, and a telephone atop its’ charger on the stand nearest the kitchen. A coffee table was positioned between the recliners and had a dirty plate and glass resting where she’d left them before going to bed, a small couch sat perfectly between the recliners and behind the coffee table. The piece looked like it didn’t get used much as she still had it covered with plastic.

The intruder imagined how he might like to rearrange the furniture and once he had the picture in his mind he got to work. He used the small square cuts of plastic to put under the legs of the larger furniture pieces and was able to slide them, with minimal noise, into place. Before long the room looked entirely different but still very well kept and stylish. The dirty dishes were taken to the sink where he washed them, along with the ones he had used, setting them on a dry dishtowel next to the empty sink. Before moving the furniture he had been sure to take a ‘before’ picture, then once everything was where he wanted it he took an ‘after’ photo. He was really having a good time and was thankful that the slumbering Katie was none the wiser.