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For a sweet house, right on Santa Monica Beach, it was unbelievably easy to break into. Mickey found a window he could open with a putty knife, so the double-locked doors were a joke. And Lana disabled the alarm within the forty-five-second grace period before it would have triggered. They were in and no one knew. What a great way to kick off the honeymoon.
Mickey couldn’t imagine hijacking anything else that could have brought them any closer to heaven. Lana had told him she’d always dreamed of a house on the beach and he’d delivered: salt air, pounding surf, white sand, five-million dollar love nest whose owner was en route to Europe.… Read the rest