The muscles in the back of Reed’s neck tightened. “You’re certain?”
“Of course I am. But I’ll call right now.”
“Good. Keep trying. I phoned earlier and left a message. No one’s called back.”
“Oh, my God, you don’t think something awful has happened, do you?”
“Probably not,” he said, not believing it for a minute.
“I’ll go over there.”
“It would be best if you stayed by the phone. I’ll dispatch a unit,” he said.
“If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely. I’m already on my way.”
“Then you’ll have Mom call or you’ll phone me, right?”
“Yes.” He hung up and floored the Cadillac, heading straight to the upscale neighborhood of three acre lots where Judge Ronald Gillette had retired. Traffic was light, the streets dark with winter dusk, the intense rain slamming against the windshield and blurring the red glow of taillights.
He pulled into the driveway and his heart nosedived when he recognized Nikki’s rental car parked outside the garage where the door was left wide open, two vehicles visible in the wash of his headlights. An older Mercedes sat next to a sleek new BMW convertible. But the house and garage were dark.
No lamplight glowed through the windows of the graceful old home, not even a porch light was lit. The other houses on the street were separated by fences, hedges, dense shrubbery and rolling acres.
Reed didn’t like what he saw. Not at all. He punched out Morrisette’s cell phone number and explained what was going on as lightning forked and thunder clapped.
“Jesus Christ, Reed, wait for backup,” Morrisette ordered. “This could be some kind of trap. Chevalier probably knows we’re on to him.”
“I’m going in.”
“No way. Don’t do it. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”
“Make it five.” He hung up. Going against all of his training, he followed his instincts. There was a good chance Nikki was inside. He intended to find her.
No security lights blazed as he approached. No face appeared in a window. No sound escaped from the two stories of white clapboard and green shutters. Steeling himself, he crept through the garage, then pushed open the door. “Police!” he yelled. “Drop your weapons!”
From far in the distance he heard the wail of a siren, but inside, the house was silent as death. Dark.
Heart pounding in his ears, he snapped on the switch. The mud room was suddenly illuminated. No one. No sound. He took a deep breath, then moved quickly. Stealthily. Two steps to the wall. He reached around the open door casing and flipped on another light. The kitchen was now illuminated and still no one moved, there wasn’t a sound.
“Police!” he yelled again. “Drop your weapons and kick them into the kitchen. Then come out with your hands over your head where I can see them!”
Again, all he heard was silence and the low hum of the furnace forcing air through the ducts while the wind kicked up outside. If he stepped into the light now and the killer was waiting around the corner, he’d be a sitting duck.
He could wait a few more minutes.
“Ummph.”
The low moan sent a shock wave through him.
His ears strained. “Is anyone there?”
Another muffled groan over the sound of a siren splintering the night. Tires screeched outside and he heard Morrisette barking orders.
Seconds later she was at his side. “We’ve got the place surrounded,” Morrisette stated. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Not sure. But someone’s over there.” He motioned across the room to a doorway hanging slightly ajar about the same time that Cliff Siebert joined them in the mud room. “Cover me.”