The woman was then frowning as she glanced at the envelope, maybe expecting him to show her the contents, which wasn’t going to happen, since they were ten sheets of blank computer printer paper. Her response was “No.”
Moll now took on the same confused expression she was projecting. “The clerk of the court said she was in a shelter. I just assumed it was this one, since the paperwork said she was here before.”
“That’s right. But she’s not now. You better check with the magistrate’s office.”
“Has she talked to you recently about possibly coming in?”
It was not a question a process server would ask. She looked him over. Was there suspicion?
“Can I ask, why didn’t you just call first?”
Good question.
A shrug. “I was in the area on another delivery. Thanks for your help. You have a good evening now.”
The woman nodded and, fortunately for Moll, turned back to the screen, which gave him the chance to memorize her chest. For future reference.
Desmond had a problem. Moll had control. But he was, after all, a man.
Outside, he climbed into the driver’s seat. “The receptionist? She knows her.”
“Did she say anything we can use?”
Moll said, “Not yet. She will.”
30
Colter Shaw’s father, Ashton, had a rule:Never break the law.
Though the final word in that sentence was subject to some interpretation.
There were laws and then there werelaws, and occasionally survival required you to redefine the concept of legal prohibitions.
You could also get good mileage out of the concept of affirmative defense: Your Honor, yes, I broke the law, but I did it to save a life. Nearly-a-lawyer Shaw had become very familiar with this concept in the reward business.
So he didn’t think twice about pushing open the unlocked back door of Allison Parker’s rental house on Maple View.
Besides, if the cops weren’t energized enough to track down an intended wife-killer, Shaw’s crime of trespass would not appear as the faintest blip on their radar.
He stepped into the dark kitchen and remained still, hand on his pistol, scanning what he could see from here: dining area, a portion of the living room, the pantry.
Listening.
The creaks of a settling house. The tap of branches and skittering of leaves; the breeze had picked up.
He needed light, but not until he cleared the small one-story house.
Room by room.
Shaw, who’d drawn his pistol, moved through the kitchen, the living room, a tiny bedroom in the back, a large bedroom in the front of the house and a smaller one across the hall. Bathrooms, clear. Closets, clear. No basement to search.
This left only the garage, the door to which was in the kitchen.
Instinct told him to crouch as he pulled the door open and lifted his gun.
He found himself aiming at a shadowy space, filled with sealed boxes and furniture and other items awaiting their final home.
No movement.