I managed to get up in time for breakfast, and since I didn’t have anything planned this morning, I took the old woman up on it. She called me inside before I rapped on the screen door. The whole place smelled like bacon and butter. I followed the aroma until I found the dining room. She had the paper laid out on the table next to a steaming mug of coffee.
She poked her head in the room. “Have a seat, Mr. Tanner. Your eggs will be ready in about three minutes.”
I sat and flipped open the paper, scanning the pages, reading the headlines, and looking at the pictures. Little caught my interest. Maybe that’d change when I reached the sports section. It felt odd relying on the paper for information. Almost retro. I had it all at my fingertips with my phone, why waste time flipping pages?
And then I saw it. “Oh, shit.”
“What is it?” she said from the kitchen.
“Shit,” I said.
“Mr. Tanner,” she said, standing in the case opening. “I’ll not entertain that kind of language in my home.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry, ma’am. I apologize, but I have to go.”
I clenched the paper tight and ran through the house. She chased after me, hobbled steps echoing in time with mine.
“Mr. Tanner,” she yelled. “My newspaper!”
I was in the car by the time she hit the landing at the top of the concrete steps. The engine drowned out her calls.
I rolled the window down, said, “I’ll bring it back in a little bit. I have to go check on something important.”
Racing down the city streets, I hoped to get pulled over. I didn’t have Pennington’s number, and doubted the operator would patch me through to him. Maybe a patrol car could reach out to him for me. Then I could rip him over this.
How the hell did we end up in the paper?
How could they let Cassie’s picture be shown, given the circumstances?
A killer on the loose, and they reveal she’s helping to investigate. If the psychopath saw that, he might track her down and take her out, too.
I pulled into her driveway, left the car running, and sprinted to her door. Didn’t bother knocking. It was unlocked. I ran to her room, shouting her name along the way. The door was open. A soft light illuminated the space. The smell of coffee, strong and thick, greeted me in the entry foyer. I raced into her bedroom. The bed had been made and an outfit laid out on the comforter. I looked around for the shorts and t-shirt she had on the night before. They were nowhere to be found. And neither was she. I checked the bathroom and kitchen, found both empty. Her car was missing from the garage.
“Cassie, where are you?” I checked the counters, fridge, and tables for any scraps of paper containing a note or phone number. Anything that might indicate why she had left without notice. The investigation turned up nothing.
Where could she have gone so early? Maybe Pennington and Cervantes uncovered another suspect, or managed to break Seth, and called her in. She would’ve called me though, right?
I pulled out my cell. There were no texts or voicemails. The only missed call was from Sam, and I didn’t have time to deal with that.
“Think logically,” I told myself.
The best answer was that she had been called into the precinct for her protection. That’s where I had to go next.