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“And I listened,” said Devine. “And I’ll follow the evidence where it takes me.”
Guillaume simply glowered at him.
“Anything for dessert?” asked Bing with a hopeful expression.
“No!” said his sister.
Bing rose and said, “Well, I’ve got some work to do.”
He eyed Guillaume and Devine glaring at one another and fled the room.
CHAPTER
76
AFTER FINISHING UP AT THEBing mansion, and after once more instructing Guillaume to do nothing with Brockman’s remains, Devine drove to Jocelyn Point. Or tried to. Halfway there the truck sputtered once, twice, and then died. He tried to restart it, but it wouldn’t catch. He looked at the fuel level. It was below empty.
“Shit.”
He had checked the fuel earlier. It was half full. He leaped out and ran to the rear of the truck.
The smell of gas was intense and the underside of the truck was coated in fuel. He used his flashlight to check. A hole had been punched in the tank. He looked back toward the Bing mansion.
Benjamin Bing?
He grabbed his bag and set out at a steady jog to Jocelyn Point.
He phoned Alex on the way over but she didn’t answer. He looked at his watch. She might be asleep.
He finally reached Jocelyn Point and knocked on the front door. Alex didn’t answer. Slightly worried now, he phoned her again. Again she did not pick up. He pounded on the front door, to no avail. He tried to open it, but it was locked.
He stepped back and looked up at her bedroom window. He tossed some loose gravel up there, where it clattered against the panes of glass. He waited, but the light didn’t come on and Alex did not appear at the window.
He hustled back to the front door and used his pick gun to get inside. He dropped his bag and, Glock out, ran up the stairs calling her name. He reached her bedroom and opened the door, dreading what he might find. The room was empty. Her bed was unmade, and it appeared as though it hadn’t been slept in recently. He searched every room in the house and the widow’s walk and came up empty.
He raced outside to the studio. The door was not locked. Devine stepped in, turned on the lights, and looked around. Just like the house, it was empty. Just like the house, there were no signs of a struggle. No blood, thank God. But still nothing.
He was about to leave when he noticed something.
He walked over to the canvas set on an easel. This was apparently a new work in progress done in charcoal.
The outline was of a man’s face. The interior was mostly blank, but there were some elements that had been drawn in. An eyebrow, the beginnings of a top lip. The lower curve of the left eye. But that was all and not enough for Devine to recognize the person. It was like the hazy remains of a dream after you woke up.
He ran his gaze over the canvas. He bent forward to read the word that had been written near the bottom in pencil.
Him.
Devine called Harper. The man answered on the third ring.
“Please, Devine, do not tell me that—”
He cut in. “Alex is missing.”
“What?”
“I arranged to stay with her at the house while Dak was recovering in the hospital. She’s not here. I’ve looked everywhere. And she’s not answering her phone. And someone sabotaged my ride.”
“Any signs of a struggle? Forced entry?”
