Page 41 of Just Now

“We’ve identified a diner where all the victims visited recently, and I’m on my way to speak with a possible suspect, Cody McGovern, who works there. We’ve cleared all the other staff so far,” Connor said, trying to keep his tone calm. “Cami is going through the customer records and trying to find any connections or leads on that side.”

“Good, good,” Fraser said. “Listen, we need to wrap this up quickly. With the third victim, we can’t contain it any longer. The press is all over this story, and the higher-ups are getting pressure from the mayor’s office. We need a suspect and we need a conviction ASAP.”

Connor gritted his teeth. He knew the urgency of the situation, but he also knew that rushing things could lead to mistakes.

“We’re working as fast as we can, and I’ll update you,” he said.

“Please,” Fraser said, before hanging up.

It was strange that now, when he spoke to his boss, Connor felt a flicker of doubt.

He was sure he could trust Fraser. Wasn’t he?

But from what Cami implied, Ethan had been shot after looking into something within the FBI that overlapped with something Cami had been digging into as well.

That changed things, and the knowledge weighed heavy on Connor’s mind.

He couldn’t let that distract him now, though. Cody McGovern was his priority, and he needed to find out if he was the killer or not.

Cody lived out of town, which already had Connor on the alert, as a quieter, bigger place would create more opportunity for a captive woman to be held.

And there, ahead, down a long, winding driveway, was the house itself.

Connor parked his car at the end of the driveway, trying not to make too much noise as he stepped out and made his way toward the house. There were a couple of other cars parked further down the street. The driveway was lined with trees and the house was tucked away, hidden in a dense outcrop of woods.

Connor walked slowly up to the garden gate. He was watching and listening hard. There were no lights on in the windows—that he could see, anyway. But something was prickling his instincts.

It was the front door. Approaching it, he saw that it was open—just a crack, but enough for him to be sure that somebody must be at home.

At home, in this darkened house, with the front door partially open?

Something was very wrong here.

Connor pushed the door wider, his hand reaching for his gun, touching the grip, making sure it was ready if he needed it. He wasn’t a man to shoot unnecessarily, but he knew he also needed to be very careful he wasn’t walking into a trap.

The house was steeped in gloom. Only a small lantern on the wall provided a flickering point of light. He stood for a while in the hall, letting his eyes adapt to the dim glow. He had a flashlight, but didn’t want to use it yet. Not until he’d allowed himself to see and hear if there was anything inside.

He slowly walked toward the living room, his footsteps silent as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

Dark shapes of furniture loomed. The faint light filtering through the window was from the moon, peeking from behind a veil of cloud. Where was everyone? Again, he had the cold premonition that he was walking into a trap.

Then, turning away from the living room and heading toward the kitchen, he saw another door in the corridor. This one was also ajar.

And it opened onto a steep flight of stairs.

This house had a basement or a cellar—an underground room that he hadn’t guessed was there, and that he was only seeing now.

And, as he listened, Connor heard a faint but persistent bass-note thumping coming from that direction.

Shivers prickled his spine. Now it was time for the flashlight.

He turned it on, illuminating the steep, concrete staircase that led down this dark tunnel. Faintly he could see the solid wooden door at the bottom.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the stairs, slowly and silently.

He got to the bottom. Standing outside the door, he could hear the thumping was louder.

Time to open it. Now, speed and surprise would be his friends.

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