The Sunshine Boy and the Weaver King

Chapter Thirteen

His hands were shaking.

It was two in the morning. He'd downed three espressos, and then he'd started research for the possibility of breaking into Burke's home. And then he'd made the mistake of checking the news.

They'd connected the dots. His explosive debut a few weeks before the semester started had made its mark, and when hero-obsessed groupies heard about the Campton meltdown it took them literal seconds to know it was the same person who'd nearly burned a petty thief alive. That meant there was a dangerous powered teenager on Campton's campus. The college administration had made promises to look into it. They were doing background checks. They were going to do lie-detector interviews for everyone in the building. They had a list of suspects.

At least, that's what they said in the interviews. 

He couldn't breathe.

He flicked a glance across the room at the empty bed. He wondered if Maddox had, in fact, suspected him, and if he'd turn him in. Maybe had already. 

He probably wouldn't even have to. Logic said the panicky teen stumbling from Briar not two minutes after the explosion had to be it.

Anthony was nearly out of time. He could feel it in his bones.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called Burke.

"Hey, kid." The answer was immediate.

Anthony took a slow, steadying breath. "I thought you said you had it all handled."

Pause.

"Ah. You see the news?"

Through gritted teeth, Anthony snapped, "Handle it." And then he ended the call and chucked his phone onto the mattress.

He composed a mental list of all the things he would say if Burke called him back, but it didn't happen. He spent fifteen minutes staring at a phone that just stared back.

He shoved his hands through his hair. Okay. Focus. He could do this. He was raised to do this.

Mia was going to going to be expecting an answer in the morning. So he'd do her one better. He'd have a solid, fool proof plan.

Getting out of Burke's house was child's play in comparison to getting in. Four cameras on every outside wall. Thick, impenetrable walls. But Mia already had an in. Shadows.

That meant cameras inside. Motion sensors. Mia could only go somewhere there was light, a.k.a. something to generate a shadow, so if Anthony could just angle the light right, Mia wouldn't have to do the weird mirroring thing. She wouldn't have to move. There'd be no way to prove anything happened.

That was if Burke's office had windows, which, Anthony remembered with a groan, he did, but they were tinted.

But she could at least get through the front door. That was better than most.

Except...

Burke's challenge against the villains felt just a little too cocky to be fair. And what was his power? Sensing the ability or potential for power in another person. Like... a beacon.

Like an alarm.

Anthony straightened and reached for his computer.

Burke was not always home. That was impossible. And his housekeeper probably had a key. It took some searching and light hacking, and he was into Burke's neighbor that lived across the road. Bingo.

The housekeeper was a woman with graying hair. She arrived at six in the morning with a bag stuffed full of stuff and fumbled with her purse for a moment before producing a... key.