Page 40 of Outlaw Ridge: Reed
That didn’t surprise her. The killer wouldn’t have wanted to blow them up before they’d had the chance to discover the body and see his “handiwork” for themselves. That was all part of this. The mental torture of her having to relieve her parents’ godawful crimes.
“I want to check the inside for explosives before we all go in there,” Shaw added.
“Agreed,” Hallie replied.
She tested the doorknob. Unlocked. So, she slowly pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges nearly swallowed up by the distant rumble of thunder, and Jesse and Shaw stepped just inside to the foyer. They didn’t waste any time using the equipment to scan the house.
Of course, she thought of Aaron. Of how close he’d come to dying in a trap the killer had set for them, and she prayed that wasn’t the fate of all four of them right here, right now.
The seconds seemed to crawl by, turning into a couple of minutes before Shaw finally turned back around to face them. “No explosives,” he relayed, setting the equipment on the porch. “Now, we’ll go check the exterior of the house to see if anyone’s around.”
With the storm, that wouldn’t be a pleasant job, but it was a necessary one. The killer could be lying in wait outside. Then again, it was just as possible he could be in the house.
Reed and she stepped inside to the small foyer that was jammed with a narrow table, a coat rack, umbrella basket, and several pairs of old work boots. Nothing here appeared to have been disturbed. Definitely no signs of a struggle, and there would have been had the killer barged his way in. So, had the woman let him in? Or had he gotten into the house some other way?
“Mrs. Robey?” Hallie called out, not expecting an answer.
And she didn’t get one.
She flicked the light switch on the wall, and nothing happened. Either the storm had knocked out the electricity or the killer had cut the power. She was going with option two on this.
Hallie hadn’t gone inside the house the day before, something she was regretting now since she didn’t know the layout. And the storm and having no electricity weren’t helping with that.
The only illumination came from a quick slash of lightning outside the windows that gave her a glimpse of the stairs to the second floor, a small living room, and a narrow arched opening that led to what she assumed was either a dining room or kitchen.
“This doesn’t resemble the set-up of any of my parents’ murders,” she muttered, and Reed gave a quick sound of agreement.
He turned on the flashlight, panning it around the living room and stairs. No one was there and again she couldn’t see any signs of a struggle. There were at least a dozen framed photos and two delicate-looking lamps still upright on the mantle and end tables.
They kept moving, making their way through the living room. Reed was right beside her, his flashlight cutting a narrow beam through the darkness. The smell of damp wood andsomething metallic hung in the air, setting Hallie’s nerves on edge even more than they already were. She knew that scent.
Blood.
She forced herself to tamp down the gut-punch reaction she had to that, and they continued walking, heading toward that arched opening. They kept their footsteps light on the hardwood floor, the tense, almost smothering silence broken only by the storm outside and the muffled sounds of water dripping somewhere within the house. Every piece of furniture they passed seemed like a potential trap, every shadow a threat.
She’d been right about the arched doorway leading to a dining room. Not a formal one for special occasions but one that obviously got regular use. The table and chairs were worn. Ditto for the placemats.
Hallie’s heart dropped even more when she saw the half-eaten plate of food. Chicken and vegetables. So, not breakfast but more likely dinner. That could mean it’d been hours since the killer had gotten in since this didn’t look staged to her, and she still wasn’t seeing anything about this that mimicked one of her parents’ crime scenes.
They started moving again, listening and keeping watch as they went through another arched opening and into the kitchen. Reed’s flashlight landed on something that made both of them freeze.
Mrs. Robey.
She was in the center of the room, tied to a chair, ropes cutting into her frail frame, her head slumped forward. Her gray hair fell over her face, hiding any signs of life—or death.
“Mrs. Robey?” Hallie called out softly, stepping closer.
Reed set the flashlight on the kitchen counter and moved to crouch beside the elderly woman. The world outside the kitchen seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of her own bloodrushing in Hallie’s ears. Slowly, he reached out and touched Mrs. Robey’s wrist, feeling for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” Reed said, relief flooding his voice, and he began to undo the ropes. He glanced back at Hallie, who had already pulled out her phone to call for an ambulance.
But as she did, a sudden sound knifed through the silence. A floorboard creaking from the second floor. Just above their heads.
Someone was here.
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Chapter Sixteen
