Page 92 of Lost Hours
She glanced back at El and then stepped inside to flick on her flashlight and hold it out with her weapon. She tiptoed down the hallway, pausing to search a bedroom and bathroom.
Empty.
She passed the closed door and held her breath lest she make any noise.
In the family room, she swung her gun and light to the left, then the right, running it over the small kitchen and living area with a large stone fireplace, finding no one. She turned to El and shook her head.
“We go in,” Mina whispered.
El spun and took long strides down the hallway. Mina followed and grabbed the doorknob.
“Police!” She pushed inside, and her light landed on a man asleep in the bed. He shot up.
“Police. Show me your hands.”
“Hands!” El shouted. “Hands, now!”
He raised his hands and bent his head against their lights. “What’s this about?”
“Becca,” Mina said. “Where is she?”
“Becca who? I don’t know any Becca.”
“What’s your name?” Mina asked.
“Knox Anderson.”
Mina kept her gaze locked on him. “You own this place?”
“I do. Is that a problem?”
“Cuff him,” Mina said to El.
She shoved her gun into the holster and went to the bed. “On your stomach. Hands behind your back.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“Now!” El snapped.
He complied, arguing all the way. Once securely cuffed, El helped the man sit on the edge of the bed.
Mina turned on the overhead light, and let her eyes adjust before checking the closet and under the bed. Nothing.
“Does this place have a basement or a root cellar?” she asked.
“Just a crawl space,” he said.
Mina poked her head into the hallway. “Ewing, get in here.”
He hurried down the hall.
“You and the others check the crawlspace for Becca.”
“Roger that,” Ewing said and strode away.
“I don’t know why you think I have this Becca person,” Anderson said. “But I don’t have her, and I don’t know her.”
Mina locked her focus on him. “Then why do you have her phone?”
