Abalone Cove

It was late afternoon when Rome pulled up to the fence at the end of a long winding drive that led up the hillside toward the new house. They’d stopped overnight, as Ella had assumed they would, and driven into LA slowly, in a roundabout manner, never quite entering the city. Instead, Rome had taken back roads and side routes to Abalone Cove, and now, here they were, going through the gate and sneaking up the driveway, as if they might have to turn around and drive back out again. The gate closed with a sharp snapping noise behind them. At least they could be certain no one would be following them in unless they knew the code.