“I’m upstairs!” I shout. “Where’s Kester?”

“Downstairs is clear!” shouts Glock, and another layer of relief goes through me.

Gripping my .38, I step into the hall. Skid bounds up the stairs, pistol leading the way. He makes eye contact with me and then enters the first bedroom. I pull open the hall closet, peer inside, find it empty. When I close it, Glock is coming down the hall.

“You okay, Chief?”

I jerk my head.

“Clear!” Skid exits the bedroom, nods at Glock, and then disappears into the bathroom.

I look at Glock and motion toward the remaining bedroom. “Let’s clear it.”

Nodding, his sidearm leading the way, he enters the room. I follow. While he checks the closet, I drop and look under the bed.

“Clear,” he says as he emerges.

He looks at me closely as he holsters his weapon. I see his eyes fall upon the bassinet. He stares at it a moment, then looks away as if realizing he’s intruded upon my private domain.

“Fucker’s gone.” Ducking his head slightly, Glock speaks into his lapel mike. “House is clear. Suspect at large.”

Skid stands at the door. He’s also noticed the bassinet. He’s not quite as good as Glock at concealing his surprise, but he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I start toward the door. “You call Wayne County?”

Skid steps aside as I shoulder past. “They’re setting up a perimeter now.”

I look at Glock. “See if someone can get a K-nine Unit out here.”

Nodding, he tilts his head and speaks into his shoulder mike. I start down the hall. My stride falters when I notice the hole in the drywall. Specks of plaster on the hardwood floor.

“Son of a bitch wasn’t messing around, was he?” comes Skid’s voice from behind me.

I stave off a chill, but I don’t do a very good job of ignoring the little voice whispering in my ear: That could have been you.

“We need to find him,” I hear myself say. “Pull out all the stops.” I make eye contact with Glock. “You notify SHP?”

“Holmes County, too,” he says. “BOLO is still active.”

My arms and legs are beginning to shake in earnest, so I keep moving down the hall. “He could still be on the property.”

“I’ll round up some guys and take a look around,” Glock says.

“Those woods in the back are thick as hell,” Skid puts in.

“Kester’s got to have a vehicle somewhere nearby,” I say.

“If there is, we’ll find it,” Glock tells me.

“Unless he already got to it and left,” Skid puts in.

“You see anything when you pulled up?” I ask.

“No, but there are plenty of places to pull off the road and use trees for cover.” Skid shakes his head. “Fuckin’ meth heads can move pretty fast when you put a cop in the picture.”