I’m wakened by the chirp of my cell phone. For several seconds I’m disoriented and unsure where I’m at. I reach for Tomasetti, only to remember the argument we had earlier. I curse him as I grapple for the phone. “Burkholder.”

“Chief, sorry to wake you, but I thought you should know about a call I just took.”

“Hey, Mona.” I push myself to a sitting position. A glance at the alarm clock tells me it’s just past 5 A.M. “What is it?”

“Kid tossing newspapers says Julia Rutledge’s front door is standing open. He got a little freaked out and called his dad. Dad called us a few minutes ago. T.J.’s working an injury accident out on Delisle Road and said you were just out there tonight and I should let you know.”

Wide awake now, recalling my recent meeting with Rutledge, I set my feet on the floor and snatch my uniform trousers off the back of a chair. “I’m on my way.”

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Ten minutes later, I pull into Rutledge’s driveway to find the house dark and quiet. No movement inside. No cars in the driveway or on the street. I hit my lapel mike. “Ten twenty-three.”

“Ten four.”

I grab my Maglite from the seat pocket and get out. Sure enough, from where I’m standing, I can see that the front door is open a couple of feet. A newspaper still in its clear plastic sleeve lies on the threshold. “Shit.” I walk toward the house and take the steps to the porch. Pushing open the door the rest of the way, I peer inside. “Hello? Ms. Rutledge? It’s Kate Burkholder with the Painters Mill PD. Is everything all right?”

Before I’m even fully through the door, I sweep the beam around the living room. Nothing appears out of place. I flip the switch on the wall, but it doesn’t produce any light. I stand there a moment, listening, but the house is so quiet, I can hear the heat rushing through the vents.

“Ms. Rutledge?” I call out her name and identify myself a second time. The last thing any cop wants to happen when entering a premises is to be mistaken for a robber and get shot.

I go to the lamp on the end table and turn the switch. Again, no light. I’m midway across the living room when my beam illuminates a muddy shoe print on the hardwood floor. I can’t tell if it’s male or female, but someone has recently come in from outside.

I reach the far end of the living room. “Ms. Rutledge? Are you there?”