Кей Хупер - Out of the Shadows

Alex gave a disgusted snort. "Hell, half the deputies out in the bullpen were discussing all the gossip this morning, and the consensus was that Bonnie being the one was as likely as anything else."

"A deputy didn't take her," Bishop said. "You're all accounted for. And Marsh is still safely locked in the interview room."

Alex said, "Granted, but anybody passing through could have heard all the talk, and we've had several visitors here at one time or another today."

Miranda stiffened suddenly. "John was here," she said slowly, looking at Bishop. "Remember? He said Justin had called him. And when we saw him, he was just coming from the direction of the bullpen. He could have heard them."

"We need more than supposition," Bishop reminded her. "We can't waste time chasing down blind alleys. Tony, track down somebody from the drugstore and find out about that knife, will you?"

"You bet." Tony picked up the bagged knife from the conference table and retreated to his desk to use the phone.

Remembering something else, Miranda said, "He was at Liz's store Saturday night before the storm. The gossip was starting up even then, so he could have heard the garbled version about Liz telling us where to find Steve's body. He had the opportunity to take Justin's Bible, and more than enough time to — to kill her and take her to her house before the snow got too bad."

"What about the profile?" Bishop asked her. "Does he live alone, or have a secure, isolated place where he'd feel safe?"

"He lives alone and has for years. Before that his father lived with him and was in very poor health virtually from the time John was a boy." Miranda spoke rapidly, frowning as she dredged up the facts she could recall. "His family home is a big, old house miles outside town, very isolated. He's been building a new place closer in, but says he'll never be able to cut his ties to the farm."

"He's the right age," Bishop said. "Old enough to have been doing this for fifteen years or more. Personality type could fit. Unusual to have a killer such as this one in a political office, far less a relatively high one, but it is possible. And he comes and goes here so freely as to attract little if any notice."

"He knew Lynet," Miranda said. "Dated her mother at one time, and not too long ago."

Seth, who had stepped away without comment to use one of the phones, hung up and said to Miranda, "I called the clinic. Dad said the mayor showed up there about an hour ago saying he just wanted to make sure everybody had weathered the storm. He went all through the place, said hello to the patients and nurses, even the kitchen staff."

"Looking for Bonnie," Miranda said.

"He asked about her. Very casual, said he thought she was there. Dad — Dad told him we were here."

Alex frowned. "Now that I think about it, I remember one of the guys saying this morning that he'd heard the story about Bonnie from somebody married to one of the nurses at the clinic. If MacBride overheard that, he would have known to look for her there."

Tony hung up his phone with a bang and turned to the others. "Got it. I haven't tracked down a clerk who waited on Steve Penman the day he disappeared, but the manager is in the store and was able to check his books. This knife is a collectible, and there were only three of them sold in Gladstone. The serial number on this one identifies it as the one sold last summer to Mayor MacBride."

With all the snow on the ground, there was no way it could be dark at three in the afternoon even in January, but a heavily overcast sky made it at least not quite as bright as it could have been. Bishop said he supposed they should be grateful for small favors.

Miranda frowned at the landscape spread out before them and said "Shit."

"We can't approach any way at all except on foot and even hope to get close without being seen," Bishop said.

"Then we go on foot." Miranda got out of the Jeep, wishing the snow didn't crunch so loudly underfoot, her gaze still fixed on the house barely visible through the thick forest of mostly pines all around it.

Bishop joined her. "How soon before you figure Alex tumbles to us being gone?"

"I'm counting on Tony to distract him as long as possible. There's no way I want him anywhere near here. He's just too wild to get his hands on Liz's killer. Much better for him and Seth to be concentrating on trying to find some connection to John in those files of missing kids."

Mildly, Bishop said, "We could have brought along another deputy or two."

"I don't trust anybody else to handle this," she said flatly.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He drew his weapon just as she had and checked it, thumbing off the safety. "I suggest we circle the house once we get under those trees, see what we can see without getting too close."

"Right."

They moved toward the house cautiously, careful of their footing in the deep snow, keeping to the shelter of trees and overgrown bushes wherever possible, and when they were close enough, they split up to bracket the house.

It was darker here under the shelter of the big old pines, and the house loomed above them. No light shone from any of the windows, though clear tire marks leading to the detached garage indicated that MacBride had left and then returned at least once today.

Miranda reached the back of the house before Bishop, and waited there, watching a greenhouse she hadn't even known was behind the place. It was a large structure, and the glass was either frosted or dewed with condensation, because it was opaque, but there was definitely a light on in there.

Bishop joined her in uncanny silence, only their connection warning her before he appeared.

"Where's your jacket?" she demanded, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.

With the hand not holding his gun he gestured toward the front of the house. "Left it back there."

"Why? You'll freeze."

"It was too dark and too noisy. I never realized how noisy leather is," he told her. "Remind me to oil that thing or something. Later. In the meantime, I won't freeze unless we crouch here much longer. The greenhouse?"

"He's practically shining a beacon," Miranda said uneasily.

"Then he's either expecting us — or has absolutely no idea that we could be on to him so soon. Either way, what choice do we have except to go on in?"

"None that I can think of."

"Then we go in."

"He's talking, I think," she said, tilting her head slightly to try to focus all their extra senses on the building.

"As long as he's talking, his attention is occupied. It's the best we can hope for. I see two doors, one at either end. And the light's somewhere in the middle. Let's go."

There was no time to discuss a plan, but neither of them worried about that. Their connection was wide open once again, which made communication instant and silent and provided all the edge they needed to coordinate their approach and movements.

Opening the doors and easing inside was no problem, but then they discovered themselves in a virtual jungle, an overgrown forest of plants and trees draped with vines and nearly strangled by thickets of weeds.

Oh, great.

No choice but to go on.

It was impossible to see more than a foot or two ahead, and the place smelled horribly of rotting vegetable matter and damp earth. Trailing vines dangled slimy tendrils across them and thorns hooked at their clothing as they crept through the profuse growth, trying to follow paths that long ago had narrowed to mere memory.

It was their extra senses that told them they were nearly at the middle of the greenhouse, but even with that help it was impossible for them to know for certain what lay ahead. They paused, both trying to reach through the wall of greenery. The droning of MacBride's voice continued, a low muttering that sounded to them wordless, so they literally jumped when he suddenly spoke in a perfectly calm and even casual voice that seemed to come from no more than a few feet away.