Rita Herron - Lock, Stock and McCullen

Another scenario surfaced though—Thad’s accomplice could have gotten rid of Thad’s body, then cleaned up to cover his own tracks.

She had received a threatening call though. He needed to check her phone to verify that a call had actually come through. Because...he didn’t believe her?

No, checking her phone records would be standard procedure. And if he could trace the number of the caller, it might lead to the person who wanted to kill her.

* * *

ROSE STARTLED AT the sound of the wind rustling leaves, and pivoted to look into the woods. A coyote’s howl unnerved her. She’d heard that coyotes had been attacking other animals, killing cats and dogs, and that they carried rabies.

Was the animal close by?

Questions swirled in her brain, making her head throb. Was Thad? Could he have survived that gunshot wound?

She backed against the wall and studied the floor again, wondering how anyone could have cleaned up that blood so quickly.

If Thad was alive, where was he?

Maybe the caller—Thad’s partner—had been near the cabin and Thad had phoned him after she’d left.

Footsteps pounded then, and Maddox appeared in the doorway. “The house is clear. No indication of Thad or anyone else.”

Rose bit down on her lip. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Rose, did you bring a suitcase here?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, and my wedding gown. I was taking a bath right before I heard Thad on the phone.”

His eyes darkened as he studied her. “You didn’t take any of your things with you?”

“No, I told you that I ran from the house. He knocked me down and we struggled. A lamp broke...”

She elbowed past him and surveyed the living room. No broken lamp. Everything was in its place.

She pointed to the small pine table. “Thad brought a picnic basket filled with goodies—cheese and crackers and fruit and wine. We were going to have a midnight picnic after my bath.”

“There’s no food or picnic basket here,” Maddox pointed out.

Frantic, she yanked open the drawer on the end table, then the small corner desk, searching for the flyer of the picture of the girl on the milk carton, but the drawers were empty. “He had that flyer. He was looking at it.”

She rubbed her temple, retracing her steps. “I had a glass of wine with my bath.” She rushed over to the kitchen and searched the cabinets. There were four wineglasses, all clean and dry as if they hadn’t been used.

She swung open the pantry door to check the garbage can, but it was empty.

“He brought a picnic. I swear he did. He must have thrown everything out.”

“I didn’t see a garbage bin outside, but I’ll look for one.” His footsteps pounded on the floor as he headed toward the door.

Confused, she dashed into the bedroom. The quilt was turned up on the bed, pillows placed strategically, the curtains closed—and the room was empty. Her suitcase and the wedding dress she’d hung over the doorway were gone.

Head spinning, she darted into the bathroom. The toiletry bag she’d set on the vanity wasn’t there now. The tub looked clean, no signs of the bubble bath she’d taken earlier.

Even her wet towel was gone.

She felt Maddox come up behind her, smelled his masculine scent. “I didn’t find any garbage outside.”

“I had my things in here, too,” she said, still in shock. “I took a bubble bath and my cosmetic bag was on the vanity, and my wedding dress was hanging over the door. I could see it from the tub.”

“You’re sure this is the right cabin?” Maddox asked.

“Did you see another one out here?” She whirled on him, hating the doubt in his voice. Did he think she was making this up? That she was delusional?

“I recognize the furniture, the quilt on the bed.” She searched for a way to convince him. “There’s an extra blanket in the bedroom closet, and...a Bible in the nightstand.” She raced to the nightstand, opened it and pulled the Bible out. “See. It’s here.”

He checked the closet and noted the blanket.

But she realized that proved nothing. Most places had extra blankets in the closet.

“Thad was shot,” she said emphatically, determined to assure Maddox—and herself—that she wasn’t going crazy. “I saw the blood, and he fell. There’s no way he could have cleaned everything out like this.”

“I’m going to grab my crime kit from the car,” Maddox said. “I’ll be right back.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, shivering as images of Thad holding that gun taunted her.

She’d never seen such a cold look in anyone’s eyes, such a metamorphosis from charming and loving to...evil. She’d known then that he could kill her and not feel an ounce of remorse.

She just didn’t understand the reason.

* * *

MADDOX GRITTED HIS TEETH. If Rose was a complete stranger, he might question if she was lying about what had happened tonight.

There wasn’t a shred of visible evidence to support her story.

Yet the fear in her eyes, the conviction in her voice, the betrayal he heard in her pained tone—none of it was fake.

But what possible motive would anyone have to kill Rose?

That was a question he would probe later. For now, he had to process this place and see if he could find something to corroborate Rose’s story.

Maddox strode out to his car, opened the trunk and retrieved his crime kit. He photographed the exterior of the cabin and the driveway, focusing on the tire marks that indicated another car had been parked there at some point, then photographed the landing at the bottom of the steps where Rose indicated Thoreau had collapsed.

Rose stood on the porch watching him as he climbed the steps. He pulled on latex gloves, and kneeled to spray luminol on the floorboards of the porch. The scent of bleach swirled around him, a sign that someone had recently cleaned.

Which was suspicious in itself. If the place was deserted and no one had been here, why would it smell as if it had just been scrubbed?

At first, the luminol didn’t indicate anything, but he continued to spray, visually searching each inch.

He targeted the doorjamb and leaned closer to examine the corner. There—a small drop of blood. It had seeped into a splintered section. Whoever had scrubbed had missed it.

He glanced up at Rose. “There is a speck of blood.”

Her relieved sigh echoed in the air. “I told you he was bleeding.”

“It isn’t much,” Maddox said. “But I’m going to check the rest of the house and dust for prints. Also, if he was shot, there should be a bullet casing somewhere.”

“Thank you, Maddox.”

He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job, Rose.” Although protecting her seemed innate to him.

She stepped aside while he went to work. He dusted the doorways, doorknobs, table, kitchen counter and desk. Finally he found a partial on the pantry doorknob. Maybe Thad or his accomplice had left it when they’d grabbed the garbage.

He sprayed more luminol on the floor in the doorway and found a few tiny traces the bleach hadn’t erased. Someone had definitely been hurt here.

Which made it more suspicious that there were no fingerprints. Not even Rose’s, on the bathtub or the closet door where she claimed she’d hung her wedding gown.

Whoever had cleaned the place knew what they were doing. Maybe Thad was a professional hit man? Or his accomplice was?

But there was no bullet casing. No bullet hole, either. Odd. The bullet must not have been a through and through, meaning it might still be in Thoreau.

When he finished processing the house, he found Rose on the porch again, sitting on the porch swing, her expression tormented as she stared out at the sharp ridges beyond them. “I’ll need your prints for comparison purposes.”