“We may not have to.” Clark headed back to the stairs. “That key we found on the floor? It’s possible she was holding it when she went down. And she was close to the basement door.”

“Worth a try.”

Clark took the steps two at a time, retrieved the key, and rejoined Ramirez.

His DIY colleague was down on his haunches, examining the base of the uprights. “You know . . . on a first pass, this room appears to be thrown together—but that’s deceptive. The construction is solid, and the door is steel.”

“Which would support your theory that she stores valuables in here.” Clark fitted the key in the lock and turned it. “Let’s see if that includes emergency contact information.”

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Ramirez followed him into the room. Stopped. “Whoa. I didn’t expect this.”

No kidding.

Clark walked over to the desk. Gave it a scan. Blinked. Repeated the process.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Ramirez spoke from behind him.

“Yeah.” Clark pulled out his radio. “And this is way beyond our pay grade. We’re handing it off to the higher-ups. Now. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez didn’t argue.

And as they ascended the stairs . . . as he connected with headquarters . . . as he gave the closed door to Olivia Macie’s basement room a final perusal, Clark expelled a breath.

A millionaire living next door was one thing.

But he’d be willing to bet no one in this quiet suburban neighborhood had a clue what was going on in the cellar of the amiable older woman who baked them cookies and shared their cul-de-sac.

“How did we manage to pull two back-to-back homicides?” Brent stripped off his latex gloves and tossed them in a trash can outside the upscale house that had become a crime scene.

“Rookies tend to get the weekend and late-night assignments.” Colin dispatched his gloves too.

“That explains my presence—not yours.”

“They pair novices with experienced detectives. That would be me.” His colleague gave him a one-sided grin. “Since we worked the scene last night together, I’m assuming the powers that be decided to team us up for this one too.”

“Sorry to ruin your Saturday.”

“No sweat. It’s not the first weekend I’ve worked, and it won’t be the last. I’m sure this wasn’t in your plans, either.”

Far from it.

Brent glanced at his watch. Ten-fifty.

He should be with Eve right now at her speaking gig.

Colin studied him. “Big plans this morning?”

“I had a run scheduled with a buddy—and I was also supposed to go with Eve to a speaking engagement today. She’s the keynote—”

His phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it off his belt. Skimmed the screen. “Sarge.”