Matt slid out of the SUV into the shadow of an oak tree. The sidewalk was buckled and twisted from overgrown tree roots. Cold wind down-blasted the street, sending dead leaves tumbling in the gutter.
Bree walked to the driver’s-side door of the patrol vehicle. “Wait here, but look sharp.”
Bree and Matt walked up two brick steps to the front stoop. She rang the bell. The chime sounded behind the red door. When no one answered, she rang it again. But the house remained silent and still.
Matt stepped into the front flower bed and sidled behind a squared-off hedge. Glare from the streetlight reflected on the window. He cupped his hands over his eyes and peered into the house. The curtains weren’t closed, and he could see into a dark living room. Dim light shone through a doorway at the back of the room, and Matt could see a skinny slice of kitchen. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Let’s check around back.” Bree started around the side of the house.
Matt followed. The narrow driveway led to the detached garage. A single lamp on the garage exterior cast weak light over the backyard. The lawn was no bigger than a volleyball court. Outdoor furniture consisted of a single chair at the edge of the patio.
Bree walked to the garage and pointed to a small window above their heads. “Boost me?”
“Sure.” Matt interlaced his fingers and leaned over.
Bree put the toe of her boot into his improvised step.
He lifted her off the ground. “See anything?”
Steadying herself with one hand on the building, she shaded her eyes with the other. “Yes. An SUV.”
“Rhys’s Cherokee?”
“No. It’s dark colored. I need a better view. Let’s try the other window.”
Matt lowered her to the ground. They moved back about a dozen feet to the next window and repeated the process. Bree pulled her flashlight from her duty belt and shined it through the glass. “Oh!” She glanced down at him. “It’s a blue Subaru.”
“Farah’s vehicle?”
“Let’s find out.” She used her lapel mic to call dispatch and read off the license plate number.
Matt brought her back down. In a couple of minutes, dispatch confirmed the vehicle was registered to Farah Rock.
“So, she is or was here.” And Matt didn’t like it one bit. “Where is Rhys’s Jeep?”
“Good question.” Bree walked to the back patio. She peered through the sliding glass doors. “Eating area and family room. Both empty.”
“Careful. We’ve already been shot at once,” Matt warned.
“Like I could forget,” Bree said.
He crossed to a small window high on the exterior wall and rose onto his toes. Pulling his own flashlight from his jacket pocket, he shined it into a mudroom, which was dark and empty. He moved to the next window and looked into a small, neat kitchen. Moving the beam of his light, he scanned the counters. “Hold on.”
“What?”
Broken shards of ceramic gleamed on pale gray floor tiles. A few feet away, the drainboard lay upside down. A few oranges and an apple sat in the middle of the mess. A basket had been flung across the room, its contents—mail—strewn around it. A kitchen chair lay on its side.
“Definitely signs of a struggle.” Bree pressed her own flashlight to the glass. “Look at the edge of the counter. What is that?”
Matt followed the beam of her light to a dark smear on the edge of the counter. The cabinets were white, and a thin line of dark liquid had dripped down the side. “Looks like blood, otherwise known as exigent circumstances.”
“I agree.” She turned away from the window and headed around the house. She broke into a jog. Matt stayed close. When they reached the front yard, she motioned for her deputies to join them and used her radio to update dispatch.
While she communicated with her department, Matt grabbed the AR-15 from the SUV and summed up the situation for the deputies. “We have signs of a struggle and what appears to be blood in the kitchen. We’re going in.”
Bree joined them, drawing her Glock. “Tread carefully. Keep your eyes open, not just for an injured or deceased homeowner, but for Farah as well. Her car is in the garage—oh, and watch out for rattlesnakes.”
Matt was pretty sure he heard a softly muttered fuck from one of the deputies, and he wholeheartedly agreed with the assessment.
“Matt and I will go through the front door,” Bree said. “You two watch the back of the house and the garage in case our killer is still in there and tries to run out the back.”
With a quick nod, the deputies jogged down the driveway. Bree and Matt went to the front door. Bree tried the knob, but the door was locked. She used the butt end of her metal flashlight to break the small pane of glass next to the door. Then she ran the flashlight around the edges of the window frame to clear sharp points of glass. Shards fell to the floor. Reaching through, she unlocked the door. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
The interior was dark. Matt flipped the wall switch, turning on recessed lights in the ceiling.
He kept one eye on the floor as they moved through the rooms. Rhys’s furnishings were minimal, and he wasn’t prone to clutter, so the search went quickly. Methodically, they searched the living and dining rooms. They turned on lights as they went through the house. No one wanted to encounter a venomous snake in the dark. A hall closet and a half bath were cleared. They moved on to the kitchen. Matt checked the pantry.
Bree glanced at the debris on the tile. “I see some dark stains on the grout. It looks like there was more blood and someone did a quick mop-up.”
“Thankfully, grout’s a bitch to get blood out of.”
A stairwell led to the second floor. Matt took point, the rifle pressed firmly into his shoulder. Two doors—one open, one closed—flanked the upstairs landing. Bree turned into the open doorway on the right. Matt opened the door on the left. Light from the ceiling fixture on the landing spilled into the room. Matt could see a desk and chair. Home office. A rattling sound stopped him cold. Sweat trickled down his spine as an irritated hiss followed the rattle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bree turned on the bedroom light. Gun extended, she scanned the room, freezing for a second as she spotted a form on the bed.
A long-haired black cat.
The feline lifted its head and turned toward her, its bright yellow eyes taking her in for two seconds before tucking its nose under its fluffy tail and resuming its nap.
Coincidence?
Bree wasn’t a big believer in those, but she put her suspicions aside to finish clearing the house. There were two doors on the near wall. Putting a shoulder behind the frame, she jerked open the first door to reveal a walk-in closet the size of an elevator. She shifted clothes to ensure no one was hiding behind them. Then she went into the bathroom, sidled to the tub, and pulled back the shower curtain. Empty. Satisfied the room was clear, she headed for the hall, casting one last glance at the cat.
“Bree?” Matt called from the room on the other side of the landing.
“Primary bedroom is clear.” She walked across the landing and froze at the sound of an angry rattle emanating from the room. She peered around the doorframe.
Matt stood in the middle of the room, staring at an aquarium on the floor of a home office. Inside the tank, a fat brown snake lifted its thick head and hissed. The tip of its tail quivered.