17
A few stars were twinkling above me as I reached the Orange Blossom Apartments, where Peyton lived. The community was gated except for a small lot in front of the office. Not that it presented much of a barrier to anyone determined to get in. It didn’t take a genius to realize you could park and wait until a resident opened the gate and follow them in.
I didn’t wait long before a green Hyundai drove up and someone punched a code into the keypad. The gate rattled open like a sideways portcullis. The Hyundai drove through. I followed, my rear bumper barely clearing the gate as it closed. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
The parking lot inside the fence encircled a block of three-story stucco buildings centered around a grassy courtyard. I pulled into an uncovered visitor’s spot and geared up
