By the time I reach the house, I’m dripping wet. The entire front of my uniform is covered with mud. Chunks fall off my boots as I cross to the Explorer. I’m cold and royally ticked off as I yank open the door and grab my rain slicker. I’m shrugging into it when headlights wash over me.

I look up to see T.J. emerge from his cruiser, Maglite in hand. He approaches me at a jog, his expression concerned. “Damn, Chief. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Quickly, I tell him about the journal and seeing the subject at the door. “I gave pursuit. I might have caught him, but I fell, lost him in the cornfield. Glock’s going to try to intercept on Hogpath Road.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“I didn’t get a good look.”

He pauses. “You think it was the killer?”

The experts say a large majority of killers return to the scene sooner or later. I’ve seen it happen myself a few times in the course of my career. This time, however, the scenario doesn’t make sense. “My Explorer was parked in plain sight.”

He shines the beam over my muddy uniform. “I’ve got a jacket in my cruiser. . . .”

The chirp of my radio interrupts. “Two-eight-nine.” Glock’s voice crackles. “I’m 10-23 Hogpath Road.”

I hit my mike. “Any sign of the subject?”

“Negative.”

“Damnit.” The son of a bitch could have exited the cornfield at any point, gotten into a vehicle, and fled the scene. The rain will eradicate any tracks. “Take a look around. See what you can find.” I sigh. “We’ll come back at first light.”

“Roger that.”

Shaking my head, I brush at the mud on my jacket. “Damnit.”

T.J. looks thoughtful. “You think the killer might’ve come back for the journal, Chief?”

“It crossed my mind.” His expression becomes concerned, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. “We need to keep the scene secure. I want a more thorough search of the house and outbuildings first thing in the morning.”

T.J. nods. “Look, I came on duty later than everyone else. You want me to stick around?”

“That would be great. Thanks. Keep your radio handy, will you?”

“You bet.” He looks around. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go through the journal tonight and see if Mary Plank identifies a boyfriend.”

He seems to consider that a moment. “You think the boyfriend killed the whole family?”

“I don’t know. But he just became my number one suspect.”

CHAPTER 11

“That sounded urgent. Is everything all right?”

John Tomasetti looked across the span of desktop at his newest nemesis and resisted the urge to get up and walk out the door. “A case,” he muttered. “Agency business.”