“Whoa.” Bree stepped into the doorway.
“Right?”
Her brain did a one-eighty. “It’s in a tank.”
“Yep,” Matt said.
She studied it in silence for a long minute, processing what the snake’s presence meant. “Guess what’s in the bedroom?”
“What?” Matt asked.
“A long-haired black cat.”
They stared at each other. Then they turned and stared at the snake.
“We were right,” Bree asked. “He has a white SUV and a long-haired black cat.”
“He stole the snakes.” Matt motioned toward the tank.
“But we need a warrant to search deeper and to get forensics in here,” Bree said.
Police generally needed a search warrant to enter a private residence, but there were exceptions to this requirement. They’d broken into Rhys’s house under the legal exemption of exigent circumstances. They’d had good reason to believe someone was injured, dead, or otherwise in danger inside the house. The blood and evidence of a fight supported that assumption. But exigent circumstances could be challenged in court, especially if the evidence wasn’t in plain sight. Obtaining a search warrant was always preferable to ensure any evidence recovered was admissible.
“So where is Farah?” Matt asked. “Her vehicle is here.”
“We have to assume he took her—somewhere.” Bree nodded. “The blood says she didn’t go willingly. We assume he kidnapped her.” And that’s the case she would need to lay out for the judge.
“We need to find them before he kills her.”
“I’ll talk to the judge.” Bree’s mind spun. She snapped a picture of the rattlesnake.
“I’ll put forensics on notice,” Matt added.
With two murders and two separate crime scenes, everyone was working 24/7, forensics and the lab techs included.
They went downstairs. Bree motioned through the glass doors for the deputies to meet them out front. “We’ll need Rhys’s cell provider and financial records too. Call Juarez and have him get the paperwork ready to send in as soon as the warrant is signed.” She updated her deputies and ordered them to put out BOLO—be on the lookout—alerts for Rhys and Farah. Then she went to her vehicle to apply for an electronic search warrant. Bree had dealt with the on-call judge before. She outlined the evidence, emphasizing the blood and signs of a struggle in the kitchen, and her belief that Rhys had kidnapped Farah with the intention of killing her. Given the nature and pattern of the two previous murders, the judge agreed to the warrant, with the usual dire warning that Bree had better not be wrong or it would be the last warrant he signed for her.
In reality, he was telling Bree that if the night went sideways, he would throw her under an entire fleet of buses. But Bree would take that responsibility. She would do anything to stop this killer.
“I’m trusting you, Sheriff,” the judge said. “Get this guy off our streets.”
She made all the appropriate sounds of appreciation and assurance and crossed her fingers she could make her promises come true. With the necessary digital paperwork completed, she jumped from her vehicle. “We’re in.”
Matt lifted his phone. “Juarez is working on the requests for cell provider and financial records.”
She donned gloves as she hurried toward the front door.
“A forensics tech will be here ASAP.” Gloving up, Matt was right at her heels. They walked through the house again, this time looking for anything that might indicate where Rhys had taken Farah.
“Where do you think he did his planning?” Bree asked. “Because he planned these murders.”
“In detail,” Matt agreed, heading for the steps. “Let’s start with the office. I didn’t see any loose papers on the desk, which makes me think he’s a paperless guy.”
“Let’s hope we can hack into his computer.”
The snake rattled at them as they entered the office. Bree went to the desk. With a gloved hand, she opened a slim laptop. The screen woke, asking for a password.
Matt pulled out his phone. “No Facebook. No Instagram. He’s on Twitter, mostly as an observer.” He scrolled. “He’s posted a few pictures of his cat. His name is Dexter.”
Bree typed the name. “That’s not it.” She tried a variety of Rhys’s key numbers—street address, zip code, birthday, et cetera—with and without the cat’s name. None worked.
Matt began opening drawers and sifting through their contents. “He’s organized and uncluttered. That helps.”
Bree got locked out of the laptop. “Damn it!” She closed the lid.
“It was a long shot,” Matt said. “He’s a computer guy. He’s going to have his machine protected.”
“I know. The computer techs will get into his machine eventually.” But that would take time, and Bree had wanted information now. She shifted her attention to the desk drawers. She slid open the top drawer and found a stun gun box. In order to preserve fingerprints, she used a pen to flip up the hinged lid. Nestled in the molded plastic were a charging cord and storage case.
“Look what I found.” Matt set a black leather journal on the desk and opened it. Inside, Rhys had documented someone’s comings and goings. “He has at least a dozen pages on the daily activities of ‘the Liar.’ He doesn’t give a real name or address, but I think we can assume the Liar is Spencer.”
“Yes.” Bree leaned in for a better view. “He went to work at Electronics Depot, trips to the gym, runs.”
Matt flipped more pages. “This section is for ‘the Cheat.’ That has to be Julius. Yep. Rhys has noted the times Julius arrived and left the auto dealership, among other daily activities.” He turned over another page and froze. “There’s another section.”
“Shit.” The nerves in Bree’s stomach knotted tighter. “He isn’t just going to kill Farah. He has another target in mind.”
“Killing two people tonight would be a grand finale.” Matt turned another page. “He calls the new guy ‘the Flake.’”
“Because he flaked on Farah? Or because he’s odd?”
Matt shrugged. “It doesn’t say. But Rhys has only been watching him for about a week.”
“He must be someone Farah dated recently.”
“The Flake works at home, and doesn’t go out much.” Matt turned back to the beginning of the section. “Here’s the initial meet between Farah and the Flake.”
“Farah must have told Rhys about the date.”
“Then Rhys followed him home.”
Bree leaned back in the office chair. “I’ll bet when we get our hands on his phone, we’ll find lots of pictures. Stalkers love to take pictures.”
“He might have a cloud account the techs can access.”
“That’ll take time.” Bree rubbed the hollow dread in her gut. “I have a feeling he’s going to kill someone tonight. I realize we can’t form a pattern or make predictions based on two incidents, but . . .”
“Yeah. I feel it too.”
Bree’s phone buzzed with a text. “The forensics tech is here.” She stood.