“Not that it looks like, at least,” Tom agreed as they headed up the path to the front door.
“True.” She rapped on the door. “He could be here, and his car just isn’t, or it could be parked around the back.”
There was no answer.
They waited a minute, then Tom knocked again, more firmly this time.
No footsteps sounded, but Chloe thought she heard a muffled cry. She glanced at her partner, whose face had creased as he tilted his head toward the door. “You heard that, right?”
“I did.”
“Someone is in there.”
“Sounds like it.”
“I don’t think its Harley Zabkar.” As she said the words, Chloe could feel adrenalin flood her system. They may have not only found the killer but also Avery Ormont. In minutes, they could have their guy in custody, and his victim saved.Thiswas exactly why she had joined the FBI. “We have to go in.”
Tom nodded and reached for the door handle. It didn't turn.
“Break the door down,” she said, anxious to get inside. Avery needed them, she could already be hurt. They'd heard something inside there, and since they suspected this man was the serial killer they were looking for, they had probable cause to get inside however they could.
Tom peered through the glass panes in the door then carefully broke one, reaching inside and unlocking the door. Once it was open, they both pulled out their weapons and stepped inside.
The foyer was large. A dining room was to the left, a lounge room opened to the right, and beyond that, she could see a kitchen. There was a staircase in front of them leading up to the first floor.
She was just about to suggest they split up—Tom could take downstairs, she’d take upstairs—when someone suddenly growled and launched at her.
Startled, she stumbled backward. A scream almost tumbled from her lips, but she managed to hold it back. FBI agents didnotscream at potential crime scenes.
Wait.
It wasn't someonewho had launched at her.
It was something.
A cat, to be exact.
It meowed irritably at them and darted out the still open front door.
The stupid cat had nearly given her a heart attack. It had come out of nowhere. One second the room was empty, and the next it was there, clearly unhappy about being left cooped up inside the house.
“It’s not funny,” she snapped at her partner who was laughing at her.
“You should have seen your face,” Tom managed to get out through his chuckles.
“You wouldn’t have thought it was so funny if it flung itself at you. Cats are dangerous, you know; I still have the scars from the one we had when I was a kid.” Cats were not her favorite animal; she was definitely a dog person. Fin, on the other hand, had been a cat guy, and she had been forced to cohabitate with his psychotic black cat. The thing would go from peacefully sleeping to trying to shred your skin with its sharp claws in less than a second.
“The cat was what we heard,” Tom said, sobering. “There isn’t anyone in here. That means our probable cause to search the house is gone.”
Chloe shrugged. “We just say we didn't find the cat till we’d already searched the house.” He looked at her warily, so she added, “There’s no way to know for sure that it was the cat crying to be let out that was the sound we heard. Remember, things aren’t always as they seem.” She threw his words back at him.
Still looking a little hesitant, Tom nodded his assent. “All right, let’s check the rest of the house, make sure there isn’t anyone being held here against their will. You take upstairs, I’ll do down here.”
She took off up the stairs and checked out the three bedrooms and two bathrooms that were up here. The two guest bedrooms contained nothing more than beds. The master had clothes everywhere. Apparently, on top of the reported gambling addiction, Harley was also addicted to shopping. The master bath was messy but not excessively so, and the other bathroom was completely empty.
There was no one up here.
And nowhere she could see where you could stash a victim.