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Which means the intruder was already in the house. How did he get in the house in the first place? Did he come down the chimney? Spider up the trellis and sneak through a window? “Who all has access to this house?”
“Aside from Jo and myself, just Mary and Geno.”
“Geno?” I shoot forward in the chair, ignoring the jolt of pain from the sudden movement. The room tilts again, so I wait for it to settle and swallow several times to keep my dinner in my stomach. “Who’s Geno?”
“Mary’s husband, Eugene. You met him a few days ago, even talked to him about your car. He’s the handyman.”
I glance around the room and slowly rise, eyeing the stairs to the top floor, the floor where I first heard the intruder. I exit the library and stop at the foot of the stairs and keep my attention to the top. Although I already know the answer, I ask, “Where do they sleep?”
“Third floor. Why?”
Shit. “Pull up Eugene’s personnel file.”
“Geno?” She does, but under protest. “No way would he attack you. He wouldn’t need to. He lives here.”
I leave the foot of the stairs to join Mo on the couch and look at the screen with her. Geno has the same small stature as the guy who attacked me tonight. Even more, he has free access to the house. He can come and go as he pleases and not draw any suspicion.
“Pull up the footage of the attack. Place a snapshot of his full body next to his fully body shot from his personnel file.”
Mo does and we both drop an F bomb as the proof practically screams at us.
“It’s Geno.”
We both glance up as Mary approaches from the stairs, something dark in her trembling hands. She holds it out to me. I take it and hold it up, muttering another curse. It’s a black ski mask.
“When you—when you were telling the doctor about what happened, I…well, I had to check. Geno’s not in our apartment and I found that under his pillow.” She points a finger at the mask. “It’s him, isn’t it. He’s the one who attacked Mr. O’Reilly?”
“It’s looking that way,” Mo answers.
“Oh. Oh my.” She buries her face in her hands and sobs. Mo goes to her and helps her to the couch. I’d rather have one of my enforcers take her to a secluded room and find out what she knows, but there’s no time for that. And judging by the way she’s sobbing uncontrollably, chances are she had no idea who her husband really was.
If his own wife doesn’t know him, there’s no way Jo knows him as well as she thinks. I’m already rushing to the stairs leading to Jo’s surveillance room as I bark out the order, “Holiday, take care of Mary. Mo, with me.”
“Yes, sir.” Holiday takes Mo’s place as Mo jumps up and is immediately on my heels.
“What’s our move?” she asks.
“You give me your backup sidearm and we go in guns blazing. Shoot anything that isn’t Jo.”
She nods. “Solid plan. I can get behind that.”
We flank the door leading to the surveillance room and silently count down, bursting in at the same time. What I see has panic rioting in me. The room is empty.
Jo is gone.
