She was falling before she realized she’d been pushed.

She was gone before she hit the bottom of the well.

Chapter 37

37

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Mendez asked stupidly. He sat at his desk writing up his notes from the day, eating a burrito from the vending machine and drinking a Mountain Dew.

“She’s gone, man,” Trammell said. “She was gone when we got there. We hung around in case she was just out to dinner or shopping or something, but she never came back. I walked around the house. Nothing looked out of place. No forced entry or anything like that. Looks like she left of her own accord. There’s a team of deputies sitting out in front of her house now in an unmarked vehicle. They haven’t seen her, either.”

“Shit,” Mendez said, checking his watch.

It was just 11:37. Gina Kemmer could have gone out with friends. She could have gone to stay with a friend. That made sense. She had been so distraught when he and Vince had left, she might have wanted support and a sympathetic ear.

Or she might have bolted. If she had been caught up in something with Marissa Fordham and Marissa Fordham was now dead, she might have decided the smartest thing she could do would be to get out of Dodge.

“Let’s get a BOLO out on her car,” he said. “Say she’s wanted for questioning in relation to a murder.”

He dug his notebook out of his coat pocket and pulled out the sheet where he had written down Gina Kemmer’s license plate number and the make, model, and color of her car. He handed it to Trammell, who went to make the call to dispatch.

“Damn,” Mendez said. “We didn’t leave her alone for that long.”

“She’s probably with a friend,” Hicks said.

Their gray metal desks sat front to front. Both were awash in paperwork.

“She just lost her best friend,” Hicks said. “You said she was a mess. She probably wanted a shoulder to cry on.”

Mendez thought about it. “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling. If she knows what got Marissa Fordham killed, then she’s a target.”

“There’s not much else we can do about it now.”

“I want to get into her house.”

“You’ll never get a warrant.”

“She’s a material witness in a murder investigation. She’s gone missing—”

“That’s a liberal idea of a material witness: She knew the deceased woman. She hasn’t admitted to witnessing anything,” Hicks said, playing devil’s advocate. “It’s a free country. She’s an adult woman. She’s free to go and do whatever she wants. We don’t know that she’s missing. We’ve got no one to report her missing. Who’s going to write you a search warrant?”