She shook her head. “Not since yesterday.”

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a key to her apartment?” he asked.

“No, sorry.” She stepped back into her own unit. “This isn’t that kind of neighborhood.”

The door closed before he could ask any other questions.

Mac sized up the entry. He didn’t want to pick the lock in case the police needed to dust it for prints. He went to the kitchen window. Pulling out his knife, he popped the window lock and slid open the sash.

The apartment complex clearly didn’t spend much on security.

He sheathed his knife and hoisted himself through the window. He swung his legs around and slid off the tiny kitchen counter next to the sink.

The apartment looked much the same as when they’d visited on Thursday. One glance verified that the kitchen and adjoining living area were empty. He headed for the short hall that led to the bedroom and bath.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor. A ceramic lamp lay in broken pieces on the carpet, and a framed poster had been knocked from the wall. Under the fractured glass, script over a photo of a mountain read: Dream. Believe. Hope. Mac’s gaze tracked to six spots of red that dotted the beige carpet. Blood.

No.

Being careful not to step on any evidence, he quickly checked the bedroom and bath. Empty. There were no signs of a disturbance anywhere else in the apartment. Standing in the hallway, he imagined a man watching Gianna through the kitchen window, then picking the lock while she was in the bedroom. Whoever had taken her had waited in the hall for her to emerge from the bedroom, then overpowered her. It wouldn’t have been hard. The girl was sick and weak.

And in the hands of a killer.

He opened his phone and called Stella to give her the bad news.

“Oh no.” She quickly masked the distress in her voice. “I’ll send a forensic team to her apartment. Maybe they’ll turn up some prints.”

But they both knew they wouldn’t find any.

“The kitchen window was locked when I got here,” Mac said. “I’m going to the dialysis center to see if I can sweet talk any information out of them.”

“I’ll trace Gianna’s phone, and we’ll put out an alert on her,” Stella said.

But who would see the girl if she was being held by a madman?

Mac picked up a picture of Stella and Gianna from the table. “I’m stealing that photo of you and her to show around.”

“Good idea. Would you bring it to the station?” Her voice caught. “I remember that day. I brought Gianna back to the house for a barbecue for her birthday. She loved hanging out with my family. Why didn’t I do that more often?”