“We don’t actually have addresses of the places we want to look into,” Avery said.
Grant pulled into a parking space in front of the courthouse and shifted into park. “Then we ask if they know properties by the names of the people Cook mentioned.”
They walked into the courthouse and followed the signs to the county clerk’s office.
Fortunately, the clerk was an older woman who knew most of the names Cook had provided. She led them to the plat maps for the properties they had owned, dating back to the early nineteen hundreds. They found the associated addresses and learned who currently owned the properties. Armed with that information, Grant and Avery headed out to start their search. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was better than nothing. With a couple of hours of daylight left, they could make it to a few places before dark.
“Let’s check out the old boarding house. It’s the closest,” Avery said.
“Agreed. Since it’s abandoned, we might not need a warrant to search. I’m sure we can quickly check it off the list. I doubt the killer would keep his victims that close to town.”
“Let’s do this,” Avery said as she got into the car. “I feel like the clock is ticking for the next victim.”
Grant had the same feeling. Only he suspected the next victim would be Avery.
Chapter 12
Avery keyed in the address of the boarding house into Grant’s maps app on his cell phone and sat back, anxious to start the search.
In less than five minutes, they arrived at the abandoned boarding house, a two-story wood-framed building with peeling paint and sagging eaves. Wooden slats had been nailed over the windows and the front door. Grass stood knee high in the front yard, and a giant oak grew so close to the structure that one of the branches had scraped shingles from the roof.
Grant parked, reached beneath the seat and pulled out his handgun and a flashlight. He got out of the vehicle, walked to the rear of the car and opened the trunk.
When Avery joined him, he handed the gun and flashlight to her and dug out the tire iron. “Might be handy for prying the boards free on the door.”
She nodded and followed him up the front steps, carefully avoiding the rotten wood on the third riser.
Grant checked the boards over the front door. The nails held fast.
“Let’s check the rear before we escalate to breaking and entering,” Avery suggested.
He nodded and led the way back down the steps and around to the back,
Weeds were higher in the backyard, but they’d been trampled in a path around the side to the rear door. No boards covered this entry.
Grant met Avery’s gaze.
She held the gun steady, moved to the side of the door and nodded.
Also standing to the side of the door, Grant reached for the knob, twisted it carefully then pushed it open.
Light fell in a wedge across the old wooden floor covered in dust and leaves.
Grant held out his hand for the gun and passed the tire iron to Avery, motioning for her to stay while he entered.
Avery frowned, not liking that he was taking lead when he wasn’t legally on the case. But it wasn’t the time to argue.
With the gun in hand, he slipped through the door and to the side, out of the wedge of light. Moments later, he motioned for her to enter.
She stepped through, turned on the flashlight and shined it around the room.
Dust swirled in the beam as she studied what had once been the kitchen, with its old porcelain-coated stove, a large metal sink and warped wooden countertops. Trash littered the floor in the form of empty soda cans, crumpled cigarette packages and food wrappers.
Grant led the way into what had probably been the dining room, now empty but for a couple of broken chairs and more trash. In one corner was a frayed sleeping bag, the stuffing pulled out of holes and scattered across the floor. A mouse skittered out of the bag and into a hole in the wall.
Avery fought the urge to run back out the back door. She’d been in worse places. A mouse wasn’t what was going to kill her.
They quietly moved from room to room. A staircase led to the upper floor. Beneath the stairs was another door, leading into a basement.
