Page 56 of Cassidy

She tried again. “Police! Open the door and come out with your hands up!”

Still nothing. Her shoulders slumped as she glanced at Jina. Her friend shrugged, indicating there wasn’t much more they could do.

Cass was about to try one last time when another pair of headlights pierced the early morning darkness. Newport Lake was far enough from the bigger cities that the ambient light was much less than what she was used to.

She hesitated, unwilling to look foolish, but Jina reached out, grabbed her arm, and tugged. Following the wordless command, she darted across the front yard to once again seek refuge behind the garage.

The lights grew brighter, and she found herself holding her breath as they did not pass by. Instead, she heard the low rumble of the garage door opening.

She frowned at Jina, who looked just as surprised as she was by the unexpected arrival of either Miles, Travis and others, or the property owners themselves.

She and Jina waited for long seconds as the car pulled into the garage. Only once the garage door closed did she lean forward to whisper, “I think we should check the windows again. I need to know if Travis is inside.”

Jina nodded and gestured to the side of the house. “You stay here. I’ll go around to the other side.”

She nodded and moved forward along the side of the house. None of the windows were lit up from the inside, but as she reached the corner of the house that overlooked the lake, it was easy to see someone had entered the living room and kitchen areas.

In three steps, she was at the window peering in. She saw a tall skinny guy with dark hair standing with his back to the window. He gestured wildly, as if arguing over something.

Or someone?

She pictured Miles Wayland’s driver’s license photo in her mind. Long, shaggy dark hair, tall and thin. That had to be him, although it was hard to say for sure with his back to her.

Ducking so that she was below the windowsill, she quickly moved to the next window, desperate to see if Travis was there too.

Taking a deep breath, she edged closer and took a quick look. To her disappointment, she saw an older man, not Travis.

Miles’s father? Or someone else?

She glanced at Jina who held her hands palm up as if to say,Your call on our next steps. There was no way to know if Travis was being held at another location or if Miles Wayland wasn’t involved at all.

No, her gut told her they were on the right track. She bent so as not to be seen from those inside and ran toward Jina.

“Let’s go knock again,” she said. “We know for sure they’re home.”

“I’m in,” Jina said with a nod.

Less than a minute later, she was back on the front porch, standing off to the side as Jina did the same. She hadn’t seen a weapon in the occupant’s hands, but that didn’t mean they weren’t armed.

“Police!” Cass shouted as she pounded on the door. “Open up! We’re looking for Miles Wayland!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gabe running toward them. She scowled and waved him back as the porch light flicked on, and the front door opened. It was the older man who stood there, his expression pulled into a scowl.

“What do you want?” he demanded, speaking through the screen door. “Let me see your badge!”

Cass pulled hers out and showed it to him. Jina did the same thing. “Are you Gordon Wayland? We need to speak to your son, Miles.” When the older man hesitated, she quickly added, “Don’t lie to us, sir. We know Miles is here because we saw him inside. We’re not leaving until we talk to him.”

The older man scowled, then stepped back. “Miles,” he called in a resigned tone. “You better talk to them.”

Cassidy slipped her badge back into her pocket, readying herself in case the kid decided to run. He wouldn’t get far, but she really hated it when the perps made her chase after them. It was a surefire way for one or both of them to get injured.

“What?” The tall skinny man with dark shaggy hair sidled up to the door, his expression a mixture of anger, anxiety, and fear.

Good, she thought with a surge of satisfaction. He should be wary if he’s involved in this. “Miles Wayland?” she asked. When he reluctantly nodded, she said, “Please step outside. We have a few questions for you.”

“Why? Am I under arrest?” His tone was sulky, as if he was being grounded from playing video games.

She arched a brow. “I don’t know, should you be? We need to know the whereabouts of a missing teenager. And we know you were in communication with him.”

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