Chapter One
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One warm stormy night in early November, where the wind howled against the house and the air was thick and humid, two figures stood drenched in darkness. The taller one walked up to the front door, still shrouded in shadow, and shook its head. It turned to the door by the garage and bent to drop a backpack at its feet. Out of the bag came a small leather wallet and, when the shadow opened the slim item, it pulled out a pair of slender lock picks. Gently inserting them into the lock, the figure twisted the picks until the door swung noiselessly open.
As the door opened, the shorter shadow glanced to the sky, hoping the boiling black clouds would contain their fury for a few more moments. The air smelled of rain and mud, and the driveway was scattered with puddles, but the figure moved, almost as if it were floating, around them to the deep darkness by the house, and stood there, keeping watch.
The first shadow crept in through the doorway. A light, left on in the kitchen, sliced across its face. The figure crouched out of the light but not before one could catch a glimpse of masculine features. The boy shook himself. There was no one to see him. As he lurked through the house, he caught glimpses of his quarry's home life. A painting here, a poem there. He snuck upstairs. Four doors. One a closet. Another, the parents room. The third, a siblings room. He walked to the fourth door and turned the handle. He slipped in and melted into the shadows
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