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Back The Lying House Save as PDF
Chapters (103)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. Epilogue
  102. Acknowledgments and a Personal Note
  103. Excerpt

The night ticked away, one hour bled into the next, with Jeff shifting in his seat to get comfortable while keeping vigil for Vida’s return. But with all of his problems, stress and exhaustion weighing on him, his eyes grew heavy, and sometime after midnight his body surrendered to sleep. His muscles, his mind, had shut down to luxuriate in rest until dawn, when the sounds of voices and slamming car doors pulled him awake.

It took him a few moments to regain full consciousness, to recognize where he was and why. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, freezing in midyawn at what he saw.

Across the street, in the motel lot, people wearing Miami-Dade PD raid jackets were carrying clipboards, going door-to-door, waking guests and talking to them. Jeff caught his breath when he recognized one of them as Detective Cruz.

What the hell? Did Lisa call her about Vida?

Jeff shook his head, rubbed his eyes again, then started his car and drove home to get ready for work. He’d gone six blocks, constantly checking his rearview mirror, when a horn blast alerted him to the fact he was about to run a red light. He braked with a second to spare.

Heart thudding, he gripped the wheel and took a long, slow breath.

Why is Cruz at that motel?

55

The condo was tucked in a pleasant, tree-lined corner of Boca Raton known as Bonita Verde.

It was a pretty two-story attached home, with a Spanish-style clay roof, peach stucco and stone construction, fronted by a single-car garage with a neat brick driveway.

After helping with the early-morning recanvass at Oceanwave Gardens, Reddick and Cruz parked in front of the residence.

Morrow pulled up behind them.

She had excavated the address after examining the photos found in the burner phone among Clete Loften’s items in his motel room. She’d noticed that in the photos showing a middle-aged woman and boy getting into an SUV, the plate was reflected, albeit backward, in the window of an insurance office. She noted the plate number. Cruz and Reddick ran it through the state database, and it came back for a 2019 Ford Edge, platinum white, registered to Lamont and Ellen Hagen of Boca Raton.

Neither Lamont nor Ellen had outstanding warrants or criminal records.

“You didn’t call ahead?” Reddick said as the investigators headed up the driveway.

“Nope,” Morrow said. “Don’t want people to have a chance to leave.”

“No Ford Edge in the driveway,” Cruz said.

“Maybe it’s in the garage?” Reddick said.

When they reached the door, Morrow rang the bell. No response. After waiting, they tried again. The home was silent.

“No one home.” Reddick turned when a different doorbell rang. Cruz had gone to the attached condo next door, and a man in his seventies opened the door. Reddick and Morrow joined Cruz.