‘Nobody bothered him.Nobody even looked at him, because we all figured he was just a guy trying to look like Michael Bolton.After he left, the owner said it was actually Michael Bolton.He went in there all the time.He just got less attention when he didn’t try to hide who he was.’
‘Point proven.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know, Dark.Maybe our guy is just arrogant enough to think nobody would trace a ceramic snowman back to a donated music box through a dead woman’s sister.’
‘That too.Arrogance and stupidity look the same from far away.’
The GPS brought them to a house that didn’t quite fit with the rest.It was half the size and a fraction of the opulence.
Ripley gazed out of the window and said, ‘Our guy’s got the right idea.’
‘How’d you figure?’
‘Cheapest house on the street.Market value is only going up.’
‘Alright, Mia, we’re not here to talk real estate.’Ella pulled out her Glock and checked her ammo levels.‘Good to go.Vernon gave us clearance, right?’
‘He wasn’t happy about it, but I talked him into it.’
‘I bet you did.’
They were out of the car, up the driveway and at the front door a second later.A silver Honda sat in the driveway.
‘Someone’s home,’ Ripley said.
Ella knocked, then clasped the evidence bag in her palm while she waited.‘Come on, open up.’
No response.
Ripley knocked harder.Ella stepped to the side and stole a glance through the front window but there were no signs of life in the living room.
Ella knocked a third time.‘Jared Novak?FBI.We need to talk to you.’
No answer.
She tried the handle.The door was unlocked.It swung inward six inches and stopped against a draught excluder.
‘Dark!You can’t do that.’
‘We’ve got a car in the driveway, no answer at the door, and a man with a history of violent threats connected to two homicide victims,’ Ella said.‘That’s enough for me.’
‘Fine, but you’re explaining things to Vernon.’
‘Deal.’
She pushed it the rest of the way with her forearm and the hallway opened up in front of her.Ella nudged the door open and stepped inside, relishing the sudden burst of adrenaline.A hallway yawned before her, a set of stairs to the right, a row of doors to the left.
‘Jared Novak, FBI!’Ella yelled.She trained her gun on the distant kitchen and began moving forward, but three steps in, a siren punched through the house so hard it felt like someone had driven a nail into both ears simultaneously.
It jolted her out of the moment, burned her eardrums, rattled her brain.It took her a second to figure out an alarm was blaring somewhere up above.
‘Jesus, Dark,’ Ripley yelled.‘We’re going to draw a crowd.’
‘Goddammit.We need to turn that thing off,’ Ella fired back.She doubted Ripley could hear her.
‘No chance.We need to stay back, because if…’
Ripley’s final syllable seemed to amplify, because it took Ella a second to realize that the deafening siren had died.
