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“Maybe.” I replied. “But aside from me, what other woman would live in this condition?”
“A kidnapper?”
I offered him a small smile then turned to look out into the back again.
“No one else seems to want to say it.” He dragged his fingers through his dark hair. “But I think it’s safe to say this has nothing to do with disgruntled fans.”
“It seems that way.”
Daniel nodded, dragging his hand down to the back of his neck.
“Should we go get something to eat then come back later?” Daniel asked. “If someone is living here, they’ll come back, right?”
“Maybe.” I replied. “Let me check something.”
Removing my light coat, I wrapped it around my right hand and began feeling under the edges of things—the cupboards, the island, the small table in the breakfast nook. Stuck behind the beer cooler was a Beretta 92X Centurion.
I showed it to Daniel but put it back.
“Shouldn’t you take that?”
“No.” I slid my hand behind the fridge then walked to the door. “If we’re right and the person comes back, we don’t want them to know we were here.”
“And the fact that youRamboedthe front door?” He thumbed over his shoulder.
I frowned. “Here, lift me up.”
To his credit, he gripped my hips and hoisted me up to feel the ledge above the door. There was a hunting knife there.
I left it where I found it.
He lowered me to the ground.
In where the person had been sleeping, I found another Beretta underneath the pillow and knew whoever it was, would be coming back.
“Let’s go.” I told him. “We’ll come back later.”
Out the front door, I stopped to pull the door in behind me and hoped whoever it was didn’t check the tape before going in.
We headed into Big Timber and found a small diner to get something to eat. Swede met us there and we sat around eating and talking about what Daniel and I found. Swede agreed to get some eyes in the air to watch the place as a bit of back-up for us but figured being there was better.
“It sounds like a halfway house.” Swede told us. “Of sorts.”
“Cops?” Daniel asked.
“No.” Swede pushed a French fry into his mouth and chewed.
“So, when people like this are in between missions.” I explained. “Or waiting for instructions regarding a current mission, they need a place to lay low. It has to be a place where they won’t leave a trace.”
“So, they use abandoned places, like the ranch.”
Both Swede and I nodded.
“Wouldn’t there be cameras?”
“This house has no technological signatures.” Swede replied. “I checked after you called. If someone is living there, they’re hiding from something.”
“It’s weird that they gave that address to the school.” I pointed out. “But I supposed it’s far out enough and no one would check. They ask you for an address and you supply one.”
