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May felt shock surge inside her.
Arrested for assaulting a woman! That was a serious and relevant offense. Their suspect had a recent track record of violence, as well as a clear grudge against Alyssa.
May thought they were on to something important here.
As she turned into Lantern Lane, she wondered if they were about to reach the home of Alyssa's killer.
"I think this is it. Their house should be the first one on the right." Her mouth felt dry.
"Yes," Owen said, checking the map.
They pulled into the Taylors' driveway, a long, sweeping, oak-lined approach. The house itself was impressive, a large mansion with massive sheet windows, a portico, pillars and a triple garage. May parked next to the garage doors, on the neat, red brick paving.
Climbing out, she swallowed down her nerves.
"I hope this goes smoothly," she said.
"I hope so, too," Owen agreed.
But then, May frowned, turning to the house in surprise.
The front door was open. She could hear raised voices coming from inside. Men were shouting. There seemed to be a massive fight taking place.
She glanced at Owen in consternation. Had they interrupted a crime? Was there a robbery in progress? Hesitantly, May reached for her gun, wondering if she would need it.
And the next moment, there was a crash of glass.
Two figures burst out of a sheet window and landed on the manicured grass, yelling and wrestling furiously.
CHAPTER EIGHT
May knew there was no time to think, no time to hesitate, only time to rush in and break up this violent struggle. It was not a job for guns, but rather for immediate physical intervention to manage this aggressive fight. Together, she and Owen raced forward. May's shoes sank into the lush, soft grass as she rushed to the wrestling pair.
Owen grabbed the shoulders of the nearest man and dragged him out of the way as he was yelling and punching.
Hoping that she'd be strong enough to do her part, May lunged for the arm of the other man and held onto it fiercely as the man struggled and tried to wrench himself away.
He was snarling and swearing in a splutter of rage.
But May kept her grip. She knew she had to get this fight controlled fast. The men were so angry, so enraged, she was not sure what each one might be capable of.
She wasn't even sure yet who was the intruder.
"Get off me!" the tall, heavyset man roared as she yanked him backward.
"Police! Break it up, now!" May yelled as firmly as she could. "This fight has to stop!"
The man turned his head, his face contorted with rage. He was younger than she'd expected, with well-cut brown hair and angry blue eyes and a couple of small lacerations on his forehead and hands from the glass.
His face was familiar. In fact, she recognized him from the photos she'd just been perusing to become more familiar with the suspect.
This angry young man was Miles Taylor himself!
Miles Taylor was a big, muscular young man who, in his rage, reminded May of a bull. And here he was, struggling on his own lawn, having just burst clean through a window.
May gasped in shock.
What was going on here?
