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The woman eyed Faith warily. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help you.”
She made to close the door, and Faith stopped it with her foot, showing her ID. When she saw the ID, the woman’s eyes widened.
“Ma’am,” Faith said, calmly but sternly, “I believe that Gina Norris’s life is in danger. I’m coming inside.”
“I’m Gina Norris,” the woman said, breath thready. “What’s this about? Did … did Jamal do something?”
“No,” Faith said, “your husband isn’t involved. We believe you’re being targeted by a killer who hunts people who are unfaithful in their marriages.”
Gina’s face blanched. “But … it’s not my fault. Jamal doesn’t take care of me. He doesn’t meet my needs, he—”
“I truly don’t care, ma’am,” Faith said, “and neither does the killer. I need to go inside and make sure he’s not here.”
“Well, he’s not here,” Gina said. “I’m the only one here.”
“I need to check, ma’am,” Faith says. “We believe he hides in his victims’ residences and waits for the right moment to strike. He could be in your house already.”
Gina regarded Faith with a look of shock. “Umm,” she said, “Umm …”
“May I come inside, ma’am?”
“Okay,” Gina said, a faraway sound in her voice.
“Go ahead, Turk,” Faith said. “Find him.”
The dog rushed in, nose to the ground. Faith followed, weapon drawn. When Gina saw the handgun, she gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.
Faith followed Turk through the kitchen, checking the walk-in pantry and the cabinet under the sink. There was no one there.
“You think he’s hiding in the cabinets?” Gina asked. “How small is he?”
“I’m just being thorough, ma’am,” Faith said.
The living room was empty, too, as was the laundry room and downstairs bathroom. Faith headed to the garage, checking carefully inside and underneath Gina’s car. There was no sign of anyone there.
“Do you want to check the backyard?” Gina suggested. “Jamal has a woodshed out there. I should say that he did have a woodshed out there before he moved out.”
“Yes, I want to check,” he said.
Faith’s phone buzzed on the way outside. She let it ring, but when an inspection of the shed proved that he wasn’t there, Faith checked.
It was a text from Michael.All clear at von Trapp.
“No luck?” Gina asked.
“I still need to check upstairs,” Faith said. “Stay downstairs while I look.”
Upstairs, the walk-in linen closet was empty, along with the guest room, the study, and the other bathroom.
Faith tensed as she and Turk entered the bedroom. This was the last room in the house. If Levinson was here, he was in this room. She checked behind and under the bed. She checked the bathroom and walk-in closet.
The room was empty. Levinson wasn’t here. Faith sighed and holstered her weapon, then headed downstairs. Gina, realizing that the killer wasn’t in her house, lost that shellshocked expression, replacing it with an impatiently exasperated one. “Well?” she said. “He’s not here, I’m guessing.”
“No,” Faith said. “I apologize for frightening you. Thank you for your time.”
“That’s all right,” Gina said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t. “Maybe you could call next time.”
“We did,” Faith said. “You didn’t answer.”
