“I see.” The timing of Detrick’s marital situation didn’t elude John. “Does he have a study or home office?”

She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “Why on earth do you need to see his office?”

“I need to ascertain his whereabouts. It might help me figure out where to look. If he keeps a record of his patrol grid.”

“Wouldn’t he keep that at the sheriff’s office?”

“Time is of the essence, ma’am. If you could just show me to his office.”

“Oh. Well. I guess you could take a look. I just don’t see how that will help.” Pressing her hand to her stomach, she started down the hall. “Are the rest of the deputies out looking for him?”

“Every available man.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“About two hours now. We can’t get him on the radio or cell.”

“Oh, no. My goodness. That’s not good.”

He followed her down a hall, the walls of which were adorned with dozens of framed photos. Detrick’s kids, he thought, and wondered how a father, a cop, could lead such a dark double life.

She entered a room and turned on the light. A study, John thought, taking in the desk topped with a banker’s lamp. Beyond, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase was filled with books and knickknacks that weren’t quite pretty enough for the rest of the house. Several law enforcement plaques adorned the walls.

“What exactly do you need to see?” Lora asked.

Ignoring her, John went directly to the desk. Locked. He’d reached the point of no return. He gave the housekeeper a hard look. “Where’s the key?”

“I don’t understand why you need to go through his desk. This doesn’t make sense. Why are you doing this?”

Picking up a letter opener, he knelt behind the desk and rammed the point into the lock, breaking it.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

He rifled the drawers. Within minutes, he’d searched the entire desk, but found nothing. “Where else would he keep personal papers and things?”

“What’s really going on here?” she asked. “Who are you?”

“We’re trying to ascertain his whereabouts.” John put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Where does he keep his personal effects?”

“I think you should leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“The police are out looking for Detrick, ma’am.”

That stopped her, but John knew it wouldn’t last. “I need to know where he keeps his personal effects.”

When she didn’t answer, he crossed to her, grabbed her arms and shook her. “Where, goddamnit!” he shouted.

She gaped at him, her mouth quivering. “He keeps some things in the attic.”

Leaving her, he took the steps two at a time to the second level. All he could think about now was Kate. The time they’d spent together. The note of utter certainty in her voice when she’d told him about Detrick.

He found the attic door at the end of the hall. He heard the housekeeper behind him. “I want you to stop right now and tell me what’s going on!” she cried.