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Michael took a breath and tried again. This time, the door cracked all the way through. The broken portion swung lazily in on its hinges.
Turk sprinted inside, and Faith and Michael followed, weapons pointed ahead. Turk ran upstairs, and Faith followed him while Michael cleared the rooms downstairs.
Turk ran straight into the bedroom and stood at attention in front of the room’s desk. He sniffed and whined in front of one of the pullout drawers.
Faith cleared the bedroom and forced herself to move on to the other rooms before returning to Turk. She was certain she knew what Turk had found, but it wouldn’t help anyone if Levinson decided to show up with his trusty knife while she was distracted looking at his trophies.
Turk continued to sniff at that drawer. Faith resisted the urge to find out what he was smelling until she ensured the house was empty.
The bathroom and the two other bedrooms were empty. She called down, “Clear!” and a moment later, she heard Michael shout, “Clear!”
She holstered her weapon and returned to the bedroom. Michael joined her a moment later. “Dammit,” he said, “he’s done a runner.”
“No,” Faith said. “I don’t think so.”
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Look around, he’s not here. Car’s not in the garage either.”
“Yes, but his clothes are all in their place. Nothing’s torn up or missing. He’s left his laptop, and I’ll bet you anything the fridge is stocked.”
“Yeah, because he didn’t think he was going to get caught today. He was, and now he’s gone.”
“Without a change of clothes? Without his laptop?”
“He probably had a bugout bag and who cares about the laptop? What’s he gonna do, take up freelance journalism? Besides, they could track the IP address and find him. I’ll bet anything his cell phone is in pieces on the side of the Ten Freeway.”
“Maybe,” Faith said, “but I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Turk whined again and barked, pulling their attention back to the drawer. Faith opened it and revealed the answer. Three rings, one size four, one size four-and-a-half, one size eight. The two smaller rings were set with tiny diamonds around the band, and the larger one was inscribed E.H. on the inside of the band.
“Son of a bitch,” Michael said. “You were right. It was the rings.”
“Yes,” Faith said, “and he wouldn’t leave without them. He’s planning to come back.”
“Why?” Michael asked. “Why wouldn’t he run? He knows you saw him.”
“He probably knows or has figured out that I didn’t see him well enough. Or maybe he knows that Kevin MacGregor looks like him and figured we’d like a convicted murderer better than a nice guy.”
Michael shook his head. “God, I hate smart criminals.”
“No criminal is that smart,” Faith said. “We caught him, after all.”
“Great,” Michael said. “So, we just move the car and wait for him to come home.”
Faith nodded, but then a horrible premonition came to her. “No,” she said. “No, we don’t.”
“What?” Michael asked. “Seriously? He’s here, Faith. If you’re saying he’s coming back—”
“He’s coming back,” Faith agreed, “but he’s working first.”
“Working? We were just at his work …” His eyes widened as he understood. “Oh, shit.”
“Come on,” Faith said. “We need to get back to the DOT.”
“Dammit,” Michael said. “Do you think we’re too late?”
“I don’t know,” Faith said, “but I sure as hell hope not.”
