Page 81 of Ground Truth

Indeed, Brand’s home seemed as cold and sterile as an operating suite. The glossy marble floors showed not a speck of dust or cat hair or anything suggesting life was well lived here.

In the den, Brand’s furniture resembled a luxury hotel room. The upholstery was spotlessly white and the occasional Parsons tables were unmarred. An oversize television was mounted on the wall across from a single easy chair. Flint had the impression that neither the television nor the easy chair had ever been used.

Across the right side of the house, there were three bedrooms. Two were properly decorated but unoccupied. Only the master was being used. Even here, the king-size bed had been made with military precision and the bedside tables were uncluttered.

Flint walked through to the master bathroom. The gleaming glass enclosed shower took up half the room. There were no toiletries on the shelves inside the shower. The glass sparkled as if the maid had polished it an hour ago. Perhaps she had.

Drake’s heavy footfalls came toward Flint across the marble. “Find anything?” Drake asked.

Flint was opening and closing drawers in the vanity. “Not yet.”

“I don’t think he lives here,” Drake said. “No human male could be this clean and tidy. It’s not possible.”

Flint had found the drawer containing toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and dental floss. He pulled out an evidence bag and placed two toothbrushes and one hairbrush into it. He resealed the bag and stuffed it into his pocket.

“You think those are his?” Drake asked.

Flint shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. I was hoping for a source we could positively identify. Didn’t find it. We’re going to need a sample directly from Brand.”

“So I hold him down while you pull his hair out?” Drake grinned.

“Something like that.” Flint smiled back. “You find anything helpful?”

“If this guy is actually living here, I’ll eat my hat. There are no photos, no books, no mail, even. I think this place is just for show. Or maybe he sleeps here. But that’s it,” Drake replied.

“No sign of a woman either, I take it,” Flint said.

“Nothing. No makeup, no clothes in the closets. No plants. No personal photos. None of the stuff women usually like, in my experience,” Drake said. “Greta’s not here. I’d bet she’s never been here, either.”

“Agreed.” Flint cocked his head. His thinking was slow and sluggish, which annoyed him to no end. So he ignored it. “Okay. So he’s a single white male. Lives alone. Eats elsewhere. Sleeps here, possibly. Probably doesn’t even shower here.”

“There are clothes in his closet, but not many. He probably gets dressed at the hospital and takes his meals at the country club,” Drake said.

“Or he has a mistress, and he lives at her place. All of which means we need to find him,” Flint replied. “And we’re short on time. Let’s go.”

When Flint stepped into the hallway a gust of warm air blew through the sliding door in the kitchen. His increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, and distractions alerted him long before Drake noticed.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his heart pounded faster.

He stopped abruptly and Drake screeched to a halt within inches of knocking him over. Before Drake could say anything, Flint lifted his hand to the stop position.

He paused to confirm, to be sure he hadn’t imagined it. The warm breeze continued to blow inside.

Now that he was listening intently, Flint heard a distant lawn mower as well.

No question. Someone had opened the patio door.

Flint closed his eyes, focused on the breeze, and filtered out the sound of the lawn mower.

Which was when he heard the soft sliding of the door on the track followed by a quiet click when the door lock was gently reengaged.

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Chapter 41

Flint signaled Drake, gestured toward the kitchen, and put his index finger over his lips. Drake nodded in silent agreement.

Hedinger’s security team had been watching the house.

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