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“Wait,” Grover pleaded. “Just give me a minute.”
“We might not have a minute,” Jessie told him, “besides, I’ll be fine. I’m with this guy.”
She patted her husband on the back, who was already pulling out his gun.
"Stay out here in the hall until I give the all-clear," Ryan said quietly.
Jessie nodded, removing her own weapon from its holster. Ryan turned the knob, and it gave way. He pushed it open slowly, poking his head in, then opened it all the way. Jessie peered in after him. Amy wasn’t at her desk. Lemmon’s inner door was closed.
“Should we knock?” he asked. “Or should I bust it down?”
“Let’s listen in,” Jessie suggested.
They both approached the door, with Ryan in front. Jessie stayed close behind, walking softly, hoping to catch any snippets of conversation that might set her mind at ease. As she passed by Amy’s desk, her heart stopped.
Jutting out from behind it, lying on the floor, was a hand. She hurried over to find the receptionist splayed out on the ground. There was a giant gash in the side of her head. For a second, she thought that Amy was dead, but then she noticed her chest rise softly, then fall. She looked up at Ryan, who was still fixated on the door.
“Ryan,” she whispered.
He looked over at her and saw Amy. Jessie made sure that her next words were also a whisper.
“Bust it down!”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Hannah couldn’t listen to it anymore.
She was only getting Rufus's side of the conversation, but it sounded like his boss, Grover, was giving him a tongue-lashing. From what she could gather, Kat's bodyguard had been a little lax and allowed her to put herself in a risky situation while hunting for Mark Haddonfield. Hannah had to fight off a chuckle. What these people didn't get was that if Kat Gentry wanted to do something, she was going to do it, bodyguard be damned.
What was less amusing was the directive aimed at her. From what she could glean, Grover was ordering Rufus not to let her leave the house under any circumstances, not even to go to the backyard. Rufus was pushing back, but she knew he would ultimately lose that battle.
She got up from the table and headed upstairs. It took everything she had not to bust out a primal scream. Kat was hunting serial killers. Jessie was doing who knows what. And here she was, about to be prohibited from stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. It was beyond unfair, especially considering that she had given the FBI their first decent lead on Ash Pierce in days.
She got to her room, locked the door, and plopped down on the bed, resting her head on the pillow. She took several deep breaths, trying to remember the mediation techniques that Dr. Lemmon had taught her to use when the fury inside her chest threatened to burst out.
After a moment, she sat up, not sure that she was really hearing things right. It sounded like the first drops of rain the city had received in months were coming down in a soft pitter-patter. She was about to go over to the window to check for sure when her phone rang.
For half a second, she panicked. Who could have gotten this number? But then she remembered that Rufus had allowed her to give it to FBI Agent Dolan, and Dolan alone, so that he could update her directly on the status of the search for Pierce. Rufus would probably get reamed out for that too. She picked up.
“Tell me something good,” she said.
The minute he spoke, she knew something was wrong.
“I’m at the address now,” he said. “You were right. She was here, but not in the guest house. She was staying in the actual mansion. The family who lives here is on vacation. She got in, killed the housekeeper, and dumped her in a freezer.”
Hannah felt an invisible grip of coldness start to squeeze her body. Before she could say anything else, he asked her a question.
“Do you know someone named Chris Balfour?”
Hannah's heart started beating quicker, and the cold grip got tighter. Outside, she heard the rain sprinkles turn into a full-on downpour.
“He’s kind of my boyfriend,” she said. “Why?”
"In the mansion's study, we found a printout of all the calls made to and from his cell phone in the last seventy-two hours. Your burner number is on it."
Hannah felt her throat start to close. It was hard to swallow, and when she spoke, it came out in a squeak.
“I called him yesterday,” she admitted. “I thought it was no big deal. We didn’t start dating until after Pierce was sent to prison. I figured there’s no way she could have known about him.”
