He smiled as he stood in the shadows of the spruce trees. He would wait until dark, and then he would bring the game to an end.
Serena turned off the highway into the driveway at Regan Conrad's house. She saw the nurse's black Hummer near the garage and, beside it, a wine-colored Lexus with a custom license plate that read KNEEDOC.
It was Marcus Glenn's car.
She parked behind both vehicles, blocking them in. She didn't want a repeat of her night-time visit to Regan's house, when the old Escort had slipped away while she was inside. She climbed out of her Mustang and kept an eye on the living-room window as she walked up the front steps. No one watched her.
Before she rang the bell, she realized that the door was ajar. She put her ear to the inch-wide gap and listened for voices. When she heard nothing, she pushed the door open with her shoulder and crept into the foyer. The house was dark and frigid. She waited in the cold and listened again. A cop's instinct whispered to her that something was wrong. The house was too cold. Too dark. Too quiet.
Serena looked down and spied a smear on the light oak near the door. The stain was dried and red. She knelt and caught a mineral smell that was unmistakable.
Blood.
She reached inside her jacket and withdrew her gun. Overhead, she heard the noise of footsteps. She kicked off her shoes rather than let her heels click on the wooden floor. As she made her way to the stairs, she watched the balcony above her. The lights were off, and the doors to the second-floor rooms were closed. She tested her weight on the first step, but the stairs didn't give off a sound. Slowly, she climbed to the upper floor.
She studied the doors stretching down the hallway. One door, at the very end of the hall, was half-open. She heard the slamming of a drawer, followed by the rustle of paper. With her gun leading the way ahead of her, she moved toward the room. Through the crack in the doorway, she saw a metal file cabinet with its middle drawer open. File folders were littered across the floor. She heard frantic, agitated breathing.
Serena held her gun high as she peered around the door frame. She saw Marcus Glenn with his back to her, on hands and knees in the middle of the office floor. He pawed through a foot-high stack of files, tossing each one aside as he reviewed it.
'Don't move,' Serena called.
Glenn spun round in shock, his eyes wide. He clutched one of the files as papers spilled to the floor.
'Put your hands in the air,' she told him.
He saw her gun pointed at his chest, and he spread his fingers wide and jerked his hands over his head. The folder fell to the ground beside him.
'What the hell's going on?' she asked.
Glenn stammered. The normally unflappable surgeon was terrified. His skin was drained of color. 'I was looking for something.'
'What?'
'I wanted — I thought she might have—' he began, then stopped himself. 'I don't think I should say anything.'
'Where's Regan?'
'She's not here.'
'How did you get in?' Serena asked.
'The door was open.'
She pushed apart the file folders with her foot and realized that Glenn was reviewing medical records. Baby records. 'You want to try again, Dr Glenn? Exactly what were you looking for?'
He hesitated, and she thought he needed time to come up with a convincing lie. 'I began to think you were right. I wondered if Regan could have found someone to steal Callie or to — to harm her. I thought maybe I would find something in her files. Something to tell me who.'
'Did you find anything?'
'No.'
'Did you search any of the other rooms?' Serena asked.
'No. I knew she kept her files here.'
She looked at him. 'There's blood near the door.'
'Blood? I didn't notice.'
There was a false lilt in the way he said it. The panic in his face wasn't just about being caught in the middle of a break-in. Something else was going on.
'Where's Regan?' she repeated.
'I told you, I don't know. The house was empty when I arrived.'
'Exactly what did you do?'
He stammered again. 'The door was open, and I came inside. I called for Regan, but she didn't answer. When I realized she wasn't here, I came upstairs to see what I could find in her files.'
'Whatever you're hiding, I'm going to find out. You might as well tell me.'
'I'm not hiding anything.'
Serena frowned. 'Lace your fingers together on top of your head.'
'What?'
'You heard me.'
Glenn complied.
'Now stay on your knees,' she told him. 'Crawl toward me. Slowly.'
Serena backed a few steps into the hallway. The tall surgeon came forward on his knees, watching her gun.
'Could you please put that thing down?' he asked.
'Shut up.' When Glenn was in the doorway of the office, she told him, 'Stop right there. Now get down on all fours.'
He went to his hands and knees on the carpet.
'This is crazy,' he said. 'I haven't done anything.'
'Put your hands on the carpet and lie with your face down and your hands and legs far apart. Keep your fingers spread.'
'Look, I already told you—'
'Do it.'
Glenn heard the ice in her voice. He slid on to the ground until his body made an extended X on the carpet.
'Stay that way,' Serena snapped. 'Don't move. Don't look up.'
She backed up to the first closed door on her right. She turned the knob with two fingers and pushed the door open, revealing an empty spare bedroom. Nothing was amiss. Keeping her gun trained on Glenn, she backed up to the next door and found an elegant bathroom with rose decor and a double shower.
'Where's Regan's bedroom?' she asked Glenn.
'At the other end of the hallway.'
'Stay where you are.'
She walked past the stairs to the closed door leading to the master suite. On the carpet, she spotted another wet stain extending from inside the bedroom under the crack of the door. She inhaled and didn't like what she smelled. When she glanced at Glenn, she saw him with his head up, watching her.
'What am I going to find in there?' she asked.
'I have no idea.'
He was lying.
'If you went in there, we'll find your prints,' she told him.
Glenn's face twisted in dismay. 'I didn't do it,' he said.
'Do what?' Serena asked, but she could guess what was waiting for her.
'It's not good,' he told her.
Serena dug in her pocket for gloves. She snapped one on to her right hand and twisted the knob with a light touch, then eased the door open with her foot. The bedroom was shadowy, its curtains closed. Light from the skylight in the hallway cascaded through the open door in a stream and illuminated the wall.
Her breath caught in her chest.
She took two steps into the room, far enough to see the king-sized bed, with its turquoise blue sheets in disarray; the shotgun lying on the carpet, emanating a smell of burnt powder; and the blood. Halfway between the bed and the door was a massive pool of blood spread out like the spidery fingers of a lake, and behind it, on the wall, she saw gruesome splatters of brain, tissue, and bone.
There was no body. But whoever had lain in that pool wasn't alive.
'Son of a bitch,' Serena murmured.
She stared at the wall and realized that someone had dipped into the blood like red paint and written a message. Each letter was six inches tall, printed awkwardly, the way a child would write. Streaks dripped from the words and made parallel lines down the wall. The message read: HI, KASEY.