Cole had never been to the Flynn place before, but he’d seen it from the highway. It took only a few minutes to arrive at the front yard and park. From this vantage point, the pickup truck in question was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the horses. There should have been two. Being curious animals, horses almost always came to the fence when people arrived, but there was no sign of a nose or a nicker. He shared his observations with Stella.
She opened her door. “You stay here,” she said, and she wasn’t talking to the dog.
“All right, but I want to get Robo out and make sure Mattie’s not here before we leave.”
“One step at time, cowboy.” She exited the vehicle, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Robo stood rooted on his platform, his eyes fixed on Stella’s back. Cole was glad to see that he wasn’t trying to escape, and the frantic behavior that he’d demonstrated earlier seemed to have subsided. He threaded his hand through the heavy-gauge screen and kneaded the ruff behind Robo’s ears while they waited, their front row seat helping to alleviate his own impatience.
Stella and McCoy went up to the porch, while Lawson remained down in the yard. McCoy banged on the door. He waited a half-minute and pounded the door again. Still no answer. McCoy continued to knock, identifying himself in a deep, booming voice. Cole didn’t doubt that if Flynn happened to be inside asleep, the noise would have awakened him.
The officers exchanged a few words, and then Stella turned to head back his way. Cole took that as a cue that it was his time to play ball.
He tried to remember how Mattie always started a search and came up with: “Let’s go to work, Robo.”
Robo met him at the back hatch, where once again, Cole clipped on his leash and gave him some water.
Stella came up beside him. “No answer. We don’t have a warrant, so we can’t enter any buildings. See if Robo can turn up anything outside here.”
Cole used Mattie’s T-shirt to refresh Robo’s scent memory and then told him to search. The shepherd surged forward. With no hesitation whatsoever, Robo put his nose to the ground and trotted up the steps to the porch. When he reached the door, he sat, turning his head to stare at Cole.
His excitement skyrocketed. “He’s got a hit! He found Mattie’s scent by the door!”
“I’ll call for a warrant,” McCoy said, heading for his Jeep.
Cole tried the doorknob and found it locked.
“Back off, Cole,” Stella said. “Under these circumstances we can get that warrant verbally. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Soon McCoy exited his Jeep. “I have a verbal warrant and permission to search inside buildings from Judge Taylor. Let’s force the lock.” He was carrying a small, leather kit with him, unzipping it as he approached. “I can pick it.”
He extracted two tools before tucking the closed kit under his arm to free up both hands. Cole supposed that after years in law enforcement, the sheriff had learned how to breach locked doors without kicking them in. This particular knob appeared cheap, and McCoy gained entry within seconds.
“Timber Creek County Sheriff,” McCoy shouted as he opened the door. “We’re coming in.”
Silence.
McCoy entered the room first, his flashlight held high and off to the side, away from his body. “Wait here, Cole.”
Stella and Lawson followed him in, each drawing their weapon. Even from out on the porch, Cole could feel the stillness of the house, and he knew there would be no one home.
Lights shone through windows in turn as the officers went through and cleared the building. Stella came back to the door and gestured for him to come in. “See if Robo can pick up her scent inside.”
Cole entered the living room, bringing Robo with him. What appeared to be new but inexpensive furniture clustered around a television, a coffee table in front of a couch and two upholstered chairs. Dirty dishes and discarded clothing littered their surfaces.
He directed Robo to search, following along as the dog put his nose to the floor, swept the room, and then trotted off to the kitchen. From there, Robo circled back to a hallway that led to two bedrooms—one obviously assigned to Riley, one to her dad—and a large, outdated, green-tiled bathroom.
No hits, no indication from Robo that he’d found Mattie’s scent.
Confident that Robo was working for him, Cole rejoined the others in the living room. “He hasn’t found her scent inside, but he definitely hit outside on the porch.”
“I’ll check to see if the vehicles are in the barn,” Lawson said as he left.
“I’ll back you up,” McCoy said.
“Do we know if Mattie came here today for any reason?” Stella asked.
“No, but I can ask Riley.” Cole withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, swiped to his contacts list, and dialed the teen.
It took a few rings for her to answer, and when she did, Cole could tell he’d awakened her. He gritted his teeth when she told him Mattie had come to the house to speak with her dad on Tuesday morning, little more than twenty-four hours earlier. Of course Robo would have found her scent on the porch.
“Have you heard from your dad?” Cole asked her.
“No.”
“He didn’t answer your text?”
“No, but when he’s working, he doesn’t always answer.”
“Call me if you hear from him, okay?” After she agreed, he disconnected and shared the information with Stella.
“Damn it!” Stella said. “I thought Robo had a definite hit.”
“He did. It just wasn’t what we thought it was.”
Lawson and McCoy sprinted back from the barn. “No vehicles out there,” McCoy said.
Stella told them what they’d learned from Riley as she took out her cell phone. “I’ll call dispatch to run a trace on Bret Flynn’s truck so that we can get a description and plate number. We’ll have Rainbow alert the volunteers to look for it at the trailheads.”
Disappointed, Cole followed Stella to the Explorer. He glanced at his watch. Time was passing too quickly, and he couldn’t help but think that for Mattie, it could be running out.
Mattie felt like she was finally getting somewhere. Sensation had returned to her hands enough to tell that her wrists were bound. Nevertheless, she flexed and released her fingers repeatedly, gaining progress in their strength by the minute.
She didn’t dare move in a large way, but little shuffles of her feet told her that her ankles weren’t bound like her wrists. The fact that her legs might be free gave her an inordinate amount of hope.
Robo. His doggie face with all its various expressions surfaced in her mind. But now, instead of the thought of him making her weak, it fueled the fires of revenge deep in her belly.
The gravelly crunch of footsteps returned, ominous as they echoed. The beam of a flashlight penetrated the darkness, and she caught a brief glimpse of stone streaked with veins of rose and green shale that surrounded her. A cave, she thought, before she closed her eyes to fake unconsciousness.
The toe of the man’s boot connected with her kidney and pain flared in her back. She lay still as a wounded rabbit.
He grabbed her hair and pulled back her head, shining the flashlight in her face. “Time to wake up, girlie.”
Girlie. The word dredged up a memory. Her father used to call her that.
Releasing her hair, he moved around to her front, sliding the light’s beam over her body. He punched her shoulder, rocking her onto her back, and then slammed his fist into her belly, driving the breath out of her. Reflexively she drew up her knees and flopped clumsily onto her side.
“There you are,” he said, his voice distorted by the mask he still wore. “It’s about time.”