Standing on the covered front porch, Stella stared out at the rain. Thunder boomed across the quiet neighborhood. On the porch, purple petunias rioted in hanging pots, and a pair of wicker rocking chairs invited guests to have a glass of iced tea. Small but cheerful, it was the sort of house young married couples purchased as a starter home. While it wasn’t a ritzy area, the neighborhood was mature and solid. People took care of their homes. Kids played in the street. Homeowners mowed their lawns on Saturday mornings.

Brody came out of the house, pulling the door closed behind him. “I’m catching a ride with Lance to the nursing home. Hannah called. She needs me there. Can you handle things here?”

“Sure.” Stella was waiting for the forensics techs to finish collecting evidence. “Do you think it’s coincidental that we have one woman kidnapped, tortured, and killed and another gone missing just a few days apart?”

Brody shook his head. “I don’t like coincidences, but it’s too early for assumptions. Missy Green’s apartment showed no signs of a struggle.”

“True, but we don’t know where or how she was abducted.” Stella took a step back, out of the rain’s reach. “But both women have dark hair. They’re close in age.”

“Maybe we’ll find a link.” Brody nodded. “Go home and get a few hours of sleep.”

Stella had called the physical therapist and the spa. Dena had attended both appointments, and had left the spa at one p.m. “I’ll go through her calendar and contacts and get background checks on Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

“What did you think of the husband?” Brody asked.

“I don’t know.” Stella glanced back at the house. “The spouse is always the first suspect.”

“I’ll take their financial statements home with me, and I’ll focus on Adam. We could get a call tonight that she turned up safe and sound. That’s what usually happens.”

Most missing people turned up within a day or two. But Stella didn’t think that was going to be the case. Too much blood was splattered all over the Millers’ bathroom. No matter how Stella tried to explain it away, she knew deep in her gut that Dena Miller didn’t leave her house under her own steam.

Someone took her.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Wednesday, June 22, 9 p.m., Scarlet Falls, NY

Mac pulled into the lot of the nursing home and parked his beat-up Jeep. A glance in the rearview mirror told him he looked ragged. He heaved his battered body out of the vehicle. Every inch of him ached. He ran a hand through his rain-dampened hair but knew he still could pass for a guy who lived in a cardboard box under the bridge.

But what could he do? He’d concentrated on not dying and getting home as quickly as possible.