Tavish wrapped her arms around herself, clamping her cold hands under her armpits. Don’t panic. The house could have been empty when she drove up earlier in the day. All but the table and chairs. Dishes. He’d served her iced tea. And given Marley water in a bowl.
She rushed to the kitchen and opened the first cabinet, then all the drawers and cupboards. Nothing remained. Next she checked the refrigerator. No sign of the pitcher of iced tea, but the light came on.
Iced tea. Ice.
She checked the freezer. The ice maker was full and still churning out ice cubes. “You left the ice maker on. What else did you miss?”
In the living room, she flipped the light switch. The anemic overhead fixture barely illuminated the room. Small nail holes next to the wall confirmed that the deeply scarred oak flooring had been covered by wall-to-wall carpeting. As she approached the spot Marley had inspected earlier, the odor of bleach grew stronger. Dropping to her hands and knees, she sniffed, then studied the wood. The color was lighter, and something had caught between the wooden slats. As she ran a thumbnail along the crack, a dark, flaky substance emerged. “Blood?”
If they killed him here, they could have ripped the plastic shower curtain down, wrapped his body in it, and dragged him from the house. That’s what Norman Bates did in Psycho.
Marley barked from another room.
Tavish stood. “Good idea. Let’s get out of here.”
Marley was in the kitchen barking at the old refrigerator. Tavish snatched up the trailing leash, then bolted outside. The rain had stopped while she’d been investigating. “Kevin’s gone. My car is gone.”
Marley whined as Tavish climbed back into the truck and started it up.
“Yes, I know. Kevin told me to take the keys. I trusted him. I swore I’d never trust anyone ever again. I don’t know if anything he told me was true. Maybe he was robbing the house and I interrupted. Or maybe he’s dead too. Maybe that fake cop has Kevin in the trunk of his car along with John.” She turned up the heat and shivered.
Marley cocked her head. Tavish backed down the driveway, then turned in the direction of John’s house.
“No. I can’t call the police and say that maybe my car’s been stolen, but then again, I gave someone my key, and maybe Kevin’s been killed because maybe there’s blood in the living room of an empty house, and maybe this is all related to the murdered John Coyote and Fake Cop, except they don’t exist. I don’t believe it and I was there.”
She had only the detective’s word that they’d found nothing at John’s house. She’d broken her cell phone. There’d be glass on the front walk.
A light was on in John’s living room and the gate stood open.
“I knew the police were wrong!” Tavish pulled forward until she could clearly see the front of the house. She drove as far off the road as she could, turned off her headlights, and watched. No activity seemed to be going on. She rolled the window partway down to see better. Maybe John had left his lights on. She hadn’t thought to check. Of course, the one lamp was on the floor, broken—
A man materialized next to her window.
She jumped. Marley lunged at the man, barking wildly.
Before she could roll up the window, he pointed a finger at her. “What do you think you’re doing, casing the place?”
“No, I—”
“Then if you don’t want me calling the police, go away.”
She stared at him a moment, memorizing his face. Midthirties, with a black mustache waxed into Salvador Dali–like points, gray T-shirt, and jeans. “Well . . . um . . . who are you?”
“I am none of your business.”
She flipped on the headlights, pulled into the street, and turned around. Marley stared out the back window at the rapidly disappearing house.
“I should have stood my ground. Confronted him. Asked him if he knew John. Asked him what he was doing! Maybe he was casing the house.” She clenched the crystal hanging around her neck. Marley nuzzled her arm. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to go home, but if I stayed any longer, that man would have called the police.” She gnawed on her thumb for a moment. Her watch said 10:34. “It’s late and I’ve had a bad day. Let’s go home and get some rest. We’ll do something about my car in the morning.”
An SUV passed her. The driver looked like the man who’d just confronted them.
“Now where are you going this time of night?” The SUV had already disappeared up the road. Switching on the headlights, she pressed down on the gas, hoping to catch up with him when he stopped at the intersection.
She reached the stop sign, but his SUV was long gone. So much for all my Nancy Drew sleuthing. She turned the truck toward home. After parking on a nearby street so she wouldn’t have to explain the truck to her mother, she let Marley out. As they approached the house, the dog released a sharp bark. She caught a soft glint on the blinds covering her kitchen window.
Someone with a flashlight was inside her house.
Call the police. Yanking on the leash, she raced up the sidewalk to the truck, jumped in, and locked the door. Use the phone at Mother’s house. No. Don’t involve Helen. She started the engine.
Marley cocked her head, then lay down.
As always, the convenience store a mile from her home was doing a steady business. A woman gassing up her car gave Tavish a quizzical glance when she parked by the old pay phone, then ignored her.
For a change, the phone worked. “9–1–1. What’s the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s someone in my house with a flashlight.” She gave the address.
“I’ll send a patrol car right over. Please stay away from the dwelling until the police clear it. Do you have a cell number I can contact you on?”
“It’s broken. I’m driving an older Chevy pickup. I’ll drive over and stay in the truck until it looks like they’ve arrested the burglar. Okay?” She disconnected before the dispatch operator could comment.
Tavish parked a block away where she could see the flashing lights. She grabbed Marley’s leash and her purse, then walked the final distance on foot. Although part of her mother’s sprawling estate, the guesthouse opened to the street and appeared as a separate dwelling. An officer stopped her near the front door. “Are you the homeowner?”
“Yes. I called it in.”
A second officer walked up to them. “No one was here. Your front door was unlocked and open. Probably some kids saw the open door and went in to investigate.”
“But I’m sure I locked the door . . .” Did I? I don’t remember.
The officer raised her eyebrows. “I see. Well, nothing seems to be disturbed, but you should go in and have a look.”
“Could . . . would you go inside with me?” She glanced at the officer’s name tag. “Officer Perez?”
Perez nodded and trailed Tavish up the walk and into the house. Tavish strolled from room to room, flipping on lights and glancing around.
“Nice place.” The female officer’s gaze went from the handmade Navajo rugs covering the stone floor to the caramel-colored leather furniture and finally rested on the bronze sculpture of a buffalo on the fireplace mantel. “Do you see anything missing?”
“No . . . no.” She let go of Marley’s leash. The dog shot into the bedroom and barked.
Perez pulled her pistol and signaled Tavish to stay put. She disappeared for a moment, then returned. “Nothing.”
Tavish checked the kitchen. The bowl her mother had left earlier had been moved. “In here!”
The two officers charged into the room.
Tavish pointed. “That bowl was moved.”
“Bowl?” Perez asked.
“The one holding onions.” Tavish’s lips could barely move. “Yes. I put it over this way farther.”
“I see. Someone walked into your house and instead of stealing any of your art, antiques, or other valuables, they moved a bowl of onions.” Her gaze focused on something behind Tavish.
Tavish turned in time to catch the other officer twirling his finger around his ear.
Tavish shook her head. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. Someone was in my house looking for something.”
The male officer shrugged. “Okay. You might want to lock your doors this time.”
The two officers made their way to the front door.
“Wait.”
They paused.
“I’d like to report a stolen car.”
“Did you just now remember this?” Officer Perez glanced at her partner.
“No. I mean, I was going to call it in.”
The male officer pulled out a notepad. “Describe your car.”
“A white 2019 Audi A4—”
He stopped writing. “There’s an Audi parked on the street over there.” He jerked his head. “Did you just forget where you parked?”
She stared at him with her mouth open for a moment. “Ah . . . no . . . I mean . . .” She brushed past him and ran to the street.
Her sedan was tucked under a streetlight, the bullet hole still marring the bumper.
The two officers had followed her outside.
Tell them about the fake policeman who shot at you. Show them the bullet hole.
“Well?” Perez asked.
“It’s my car . . . Wait a minute! I drove here in a truck, a pickup owned by Kevin’s mom.”
“Kevin’s mom?” The male officer’s gaze slid to Perez, then back to Tavish. “Does Kevin have a last name?”
“Of course, but—”
“Tell you what.” Perez nudged her partner. “We need to get going. If you need us for anything, give us a call.” Both officers turned and left.
Tavish’s stomach churned. She clenched her fists. She didn’t try to stop them but marched to the Audi and opened the door. She found the keys on the floor. She took the keys, locked the car, and slowly walked to where she’d parked the truck.
As she expected, it was missing.