Page 17 of Girl Lost
Corbin had his gun out. Luna took her position. When she was ready, Corbin leaned in and tried the knob.
Locked.
Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. He gripped his weapon and brought it up to sight. The adrenaline surged, and he took a deep breath before nodding to Blade.
Officer Salas stomped up the steps. He rammed the sledge into the door and ducked back. The wood splintered with a crack and burst open an inch, stopped by a brass security chain.
Corbin put his shoulder to it. The metal plate tore from the jamb, freeing the door.
Following the barrel of his pistol, he slipped inside and stoodwith his back to the wall. “Police! If anyone’s in here, come out with your hands in the air!”
His vision sharpened, scanning the small kitchen and sparsely furnished living room for immediate threats.
Nothing.
In two heartbeats, Blade, Luna, and Salas crossed the threshold and walked inside the darkened house.
The floor plan was simple. Living room on the right. Small dining area followed by a kitchen on the left. A long, dark hall straight ahead divided the house down the middle. Four closed doors likely concealing three bedrooms and a bathroom.
Corbin covered the front while the other three disappeared down the hall to clear the bathroom and bedrooms. He stepped into the kitchen.
The sink had a hand towel draped over the top, probably hiding a stack of dirty dishes. Two of the four kitchen chairs sat cockeyed as if the last people sitting there didn’t bother pushing them back under the table.
A quick sweep of the kitchen revealed no place to hide. No basement door. No trapdoor. Just a grimy linoleum floor and peeling wallpaper. A doorway beyond the kitchen led to a cramped mudroom. Old avocado-green washer and dryer units stood side by side against one wall. He checked the washer. Empty. The dryer too.
The shelves above the laundry units were lined with cleaning supplies. He spotted a can of charcoal lighter fluid on a shelf above the washer, tipped on its side. Reckless. A fire waiting to happen.
An ice chest held a few empty two-liter soda bottles. He nudged the overflowing laundry basket with his foot. Nothing.
The back door had a small window covered with faded floral curtains. He peered out at the overgrown yard. A chain-link fence sagged in the distance, choked by weeds. Officer Gordon picked his way around the rusty lawn chairs.
Shouts of“Clear!” rang through the house, extinguishing any hope that Stryker was here.
He turned from the mudroom and moved back through the kitchen, stepping into the living room just as Blade stalked over and holstered his weapon. “It’s empty. No signs of Stryker or anyone else.”
Corbin clicked his own gun away. “I guess Abercorn would be stupid to use his own name and address when he purchased the Taser cartridges.”
“If it weren’t for stupid criminals, I might be out of a job,” Blade said.
“Hold on a sec!” Salas called out. “Y’all better come see this.”
He followed Blade down the hall as Luna emerged from the back bedroom. They crowded the hallway near the small bathroom.
The light was off. In fact, all the lights in the house were off, and the windowless room made it darker. He made out the shapes of bottles of cleaning solution, a small can of paint thinner, and several two-liter bottles standing upright in the bathtub.
A meth lab.
That explained the lighter fluid and plastic bottles in the mudroom. Abercorn was cooking meth, not kidnapping old men.
They needed to get out. Now.
“I can’t see a thing.” Blade reached for the wall switch.
“Wait! Don’t touch—”
Too late. A single yellow spark spat from the empty socket above, igniting a line of fire that streaked across the ceiling.
Booby trap.
