burglar wouldn’t have that knowledge. He didn’t like the thought of Lucy leaving herself vulnerable.
He moved into her living room, sat down on the comfy-looking overstuffed couch. There were things on the wall, pictures on the shelves and a bookcase overflowing with books. Her TV was on the small side but the overall effect was cozy comfort. It was a nice area. Homey.
With some effort he got up and resumed his exploration. The downstairs yielded a bath and another room that was used as an office. Upstairs he found three bedrooms, but only two were furnished. There was no men’s clothing in any of the closets. No male items in the bathrooms. He smiled to himself when he found a loaded pistol hidden among her panties and bras.
Maybe Lucy Benally wasn’t so vulnerable after all.
He emptied the weapon, slipping the cartridge into his pocket. Then he devoted a few more minutes to searching for the rest of the ammunition he was certain she’d have. Found it on the top shelf of the hallway closet. Sonny took that, too.
Opening the door next to it, he found a narrow stairwell. Out of curiosity he ascended it, found himself in a surprisingly well-lit attic. Three sets of dormer windows let the early afternoon sun in. It reminded him of his bedroom at the second foster home he’d been placed in. Or maybe it had been the third. The home had been a story and a half and the entire upstairs had been remodeled into a large bedroom and bath he’d shared with three other boys. It had almost—almost seemed like a family.
Until the foster parents discovered how he’d ended up a ward of the state. Then he’d continued the foster home shuffle. Like most of the other places he’d stayed he’d never been given a chance to show that he wasn’t bad or scary. He was just an ordinary nine-year-old boy.
Mommy’s good boy. The voice blew through his mind on a chill wind. Come help Mommy.
He shuddered, although it was hot in the attic. Stuffy in a way his other room all those years ago hadn’t been.
Get your ass over here, you fucking little prick. Untie me. Now!
His heart was jackhammering in his chest. His breathing came fast and hard. Whirling, his gaze searched the barren space frantically, half-expecting to see Mommy standing there. Yelling from across the space, the mean in her eyes dark and violent.
But it was empty save for some neatly stacked boxes and dust motes dancing in the sunlight.
Mommy wasn’t here.
He was safe.
Safe in Lucy Benally’s house.
* * * *
Sophia followed Cam back to his car. “Aren’t you planning to wait for the search team?”
“Oh, I’m waiting.” He consciously slowed his long strides so that she could catch up, then helped her over a downed tree. “The idea is to multi-task.”
Of course. He was directing the investigation responding to the regular updates coming in from all his agents. In the short time they’d been here, he’d spent more than half of it reading emails or texts on his phone, or sending his own.
They walked out of the stand of trees and toward his car. “I fed the facial photo of the corpse we found last night into various missing persons databases last night. Went through the photos on the Iowa and FBI sites but found nothing. I’ve got the State Radio Center submitting the picture to NCIC. But I still need to look through other online missing persons sites.” He slanted a glance at her. “Figured you could use the time to work on the new profile.”
“I have some thoughts,” she admitted. She’d been completely unaware of the temperatures when she’d been at the water’s edge. She’d been too immersed in learning everything she could about the man who had chosen that spot. But the sun was warm after the relative coolness of the woods. The warmth made her scalp under the wig itch.
Reaching the car, he walked around to open her
He moved into her living room, sat down on the comfy-looking overstuffed couch. There were things on the wall, pictures on the shelves and a bookcase overflowing with books. Her TV was on the small side but the overall effect was cozy comfort. It was a nice area. Homey.
With some effort he got up and resumed his exploration. The downstairs yielded a bath and another room that was used as an office. Upstairs he found three bedrooms, but only two were furnished. There was no men’s clothing in any of the closets. No male items in the bathrooms. He smiled to himself when he found a loaded pistol hidden among her panties and bras.
Maybe Lucy Benally wasn’t so vulnerable after all.
He emptied the weapon, slipping the cartridge into his pocket. Then he devoted a few more minutes to searching for the rest of the ammunition he was certain she’d have. Found it on the top shelf of the hallway closet. Sonny took that, too.
Opening the door next to it, he found a narrow stairwell. Out of curiosity he ascended it, found himself in a surprisingly well-lit attic. Three sets of dormer windows let the early afternoon sun in. It reminded him of his bedroom at the second foster home he’d been placed in. Or maybe it had been the third. The home had been a story and a half and the entire upstairs had been remodeled into a large bedroom and bath he’d shared with three other boys. It had almost—almost seemed like a family.
Until the foster parents discovered how he’d ended up a ward of the state. Then he’d continued the foster home shuffle. Like most of the other places he’d stayed he’d never been given a chance to show that he wasn’t bad or scary. He was just an ordinary nine-year-old boy.
Mommy’s good boy. The voice blew through his mind on a chill wind. Come help Mommy.
He shuddered, although it was hot in the attic. Stuffy in a way his other room all those years ago hadn’t been.
Get your ass over here, you fucking little prick. Untie me. Now!
His heart was jackhammering in his chest. His breathing came fast and hard. Whirling, his gaze searched the barren space frantically, half-expecting to see Mommy standing there. Yelling from across the space, the mean in her eyes dark and violent.
But it was empty save for some neatly stacked boxes and dust motes dancing in the sunlight.
Mommy wasn’t here.
He was safe.
Safe in Lucy Benally’s house.
* * * *
Sophia followed Cam back to his car. “Aren’t you planning to wait for the search team?”
“Oh, I’m waiting.” He consciously slowed his long strides so that she could catch up, then helped her over a downed tree. “The idea is to multi-task.”
Of course. He was directing the investigation responding to the regular updates coming in from all his agents. In the short time they’d been here, he’d spent more than half of it reading emails or texts on his phone, or sending his own.
They walked out of the stand of trees and toward his car. “I fed the facial photo of the corpse we found last night into various missing persons databases last night. Went through the photos on the Iowa and FBI sites but found nothing. I’ve got the State Radio Center submitting the picture to NCIC. But I still need to look through other online missing persons sites.” He slanted a glance at her. “Figured you could use the time to work on the new profile.”
“I have some thoughts,” she admitted. She’d been completely unaware of the temperatures when she’d been at the water’s edge. She’d been too immersed in learning everything she could about the man who had chosen that spot. But the sun was warm after the relative coolness of the woods. The warmth made her scalp under the wig itch.
Reaching the car, he walked around to open her
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