Page 34 of Lost Lake
“Truck could mean he’s home.” Gabe pointed at an old pickup sitting in the driveway. “Or it might not run.”
She studied the vehicle. Rust crawled along the wheel wells. Electrical tape held a cracked side mirror on. “I’ve seen worse on the road. You probably have too. Either way, we approach like he’s inside.”
“Agreed.” She turned to look at him directly. “And you’re not carrying a badge right now, so stay behind me. Sidearm stays holstered unless a life-or-death situation calls for it.”
He crossed his arms. “I’ll let you go first, but I’m drawing my weapon now, and that’s not negotiable.”
She held his gaze.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was even, not aggressive. “You know I have plenty of experience, and I won’t overreact.”
She did know that. It was the only reason she didn’t press it further. “Fine, but remaining behind me holds.”
“You have my word.”
She was out of the vehicle before he finished the sentence, moving quickly enough to get ahead of him. She pulled her sidearm and crept over beds of fallen pine needles and leaves, both softened by the morning mist. She went to the building and signaled for Gabe to remain at a distance.
At the front window, she held back for a moment, then took a quick look through the dirty glass.
No lights. No movement. No sign of Mason.
She took another quick peek, then glanced back at Gabe and shook her head.
His expression tightened with disappointment. She didn’t waste time, but headed for the two front steps leading to a small platform while signaling for him to join her. The porch groaned under her boots, loud enough to announce her to anyone inside.
If Mason opened fire, they could die. Not on her watch.
She directed Gabe to move to the side of the small platform. She shifted as far as she could to the other side, then knocked hard on the splintered door. “Police, Mr. Mason, I need to speak with you.”
Tapping her foot, she counted sixty seconds. Knocked again. Harder.
“Police. Come to the door, Mr. Mason.”
Quiet surrounded them until a bird fluttered in the evergreens and went still. She glanced at her watch. Two full minutes had passed.
She looked at Gabe. “Doesn’t appear to be home. I’ll try the knob, but we don’t have a warrant so even if it’s unlocked, we won’t go in.”
He frowned. “Then what’s the point of checking?”
“If he didn’t lock it, he thinks he’s coming back soon.”
Gabe’s gaze moved toward the water. “Could be down in the boathouse.”
Using her sleeve to protect any evidence, she tried the knob. It turned freely under her hand.
“You might be right.” She stepped off the porch. “Let’s check it.”
He waited for her and fell in behind without being reminded, his footsteps entirely silent on the wet ground. Thankfully, his law enforcement experience had taught him how to move silently.
She knocked on the boathouse door and called out Mason’s name.
Nothing.
She tried the knob. It turned. She released it and stepped back.
“What?” Gabe’s voice was low, strained. “You’re not going in here either? He could’ve killed Kenna. He could have Lucy.”
“I know.” Shedidknow. That was the problem. Her every instinct pulled her toward that door. “If I let that lure me inside without the warrant, I hand his defense attorney the case on a platter. Everything we find in there becomes questionable. I’m not doing that to Kenna or Lucy.” She stepped back. “We go back to the car. We wait for the warrant.”
