Page 134 of Over the Edge

Everything in the foyer was pristine.

Jack started down the hall.

Stopped.

A closet door at the end was open.

He put his feet in gear again, halting a yard back.

Major red alert.

In one fast scan, he took in the pile of sheets on the floor inside and the missing half shelf. Moving closer, he flicked on the flashlight he’d brought from his car, homing in on a brownish crimson spot on one of the sheets.

It was blood.

Lindsey’s.

He knew that as surely as he knew there would be a lot more of it unless he found her fast.

Heart pounding, he fumbled for his cell and got Sarge on the line again.

His boss listened to his download before speaking. “We need his phone records. Also a location on his cell, assuming he hasn’t turned it off. I’ll coordinate that. Does he have a second car?”

“Unknown. But the damaged BMW is in the garage.”

“We’ll check on a second vehicle and get a BOLO alertissued if he owns another one. I’ll also have the CSU send a van over there.”

“We need to find out if there’s any family we can talk to. Office staff too. I can dig into that after I finish the walk-through here. I’ll also have the officers who are here knock on the neighbors’ doors.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get our people on the intel piece.”

The line went dead, and Jack put his phone away.

While he’d do a full circuit of the house and garage, his gut told him he’d already discovered the main clues visible to the naked eye. The CSU folks would doubtless unearth additional evidence during their thorough examination of the scene, however. It was also possible the door-to-door canvas would yield another helpful hint or two, though in neighborhoods where houses were often shrouded behind landscaping designed to offer optimal privacy, witnesses were generally difficult to find. Family, friends, and staff interviews could fill in blanks too.

But all of that would take time.

Time Lindsey didn’t have.

She’d already been missing for hours, and people with bad intentions didn’t stretch out their risks any longer than necessary. Especially smart ones.

And Oliver was smart.

Smart enough to perhaps stay one step ahead of the law, as he had throughout this whole ordeal.

But he’d made mistakes tonight, like the one last week with the blood on Lindsey’s car. Either he was getting rattled, or circumstances had pushed him into a course of action he hadn’t had an opportunity to plan to thenth degree, as he’d done for the lake and park setups.

If they were lucky, Oliver would keep making mistakes. Continue leaving them a trail to follow.

If he didn’t?

Jack tamped down an uncharacteristic wave of panic as the answer to that question came through loud and clear. Letting fear undermine his professional composure and usual meticulous thinking would be a mistake. He had to stay at the top of his game.

Lindsey’s life depended on it.

And as he continued his walk-through of Oliver’s house, he prayed for one more break that would lead him to the woman who was fast claiming his heart—in time to save her life ... and their future.

Twenty-Eight

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