“Not that kind of hunting. We need to find Rhinehart. Saintcrow suggested we start at his place on the off chance that he’d be home, or that his wife might know where to find him.” Kincaid lifted his head, nostrils flaring. “Saintcrow’s here.”
“Be careful, Jake.”
“Always.” He kissed her again, hard and quick, before striding out of the room.
A combined thought carried Saintcrow and Kincaid to the front porch of Rhinehart’s house.
“He’s not here,” Saintcrow said. “But the woman is.”
Kincaid rang the bell.
A few moments later, the door opened a crack and a woman peered at them. She was in her late thirties, with blonde hair and dark shadows under worried brown eyes. “What do you want?”
“We’re looking for Paul, Mrs. Rhinehart,” Kincaid said. “Do you have any idea where he is?”
“No. Who are you?”
“Friends of his who are worried about him.”
She stared at the two of them. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“Was he all right when he left?”
“No. I’ve been so worried. He’s been acting so strangely. Not like himself at all. Talking to himself. Wandering through the house, babbling incoherently. Unable to sleep at night.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s lost his mind.”
“Do you have any idea where he’d go?” Saintcrow asked.
She thought about it for several minutes, her brow furrowed. “We have a summer place on the lake in Deer Creek.”
“Could you give us the address?”
She hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. “I’ll write it down for you,” she said and shut the door.
Kincaid heard the snick of the lock being turned. “The woman’s scared half to death.”
“Yeah. Can you blame her?”
The door opened again and she slid a piece of paper through the crack.
Kincaid looked at it, then tucked the paper into his shirt pocket.
“If you find him, you’ll let me know?”
“I promise.”
“Tell him how worried I am,” she said. “And that we miss him.”
Saintcrow nodded. “If you hear from him, give us a call,” he said and offered her one of his business cards.
“I will.” She snatched the card from his hand, closed and locked the door.
“Well,” Saintcrow said, “at least we have a place to start.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Paul Rhinehart paced the cabin floor, stopping now and then to take long swallows from the bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand in a vain attempt to drown out the voice in his head. Luca’s voice, whispering lies, urging him to go home and kill Nancy.
She’s cheating on you,the voice said.Has been for years. The last brat she bore isn’t even yours. Kill them both. Kill them all.