He called in his location to Abigail. At the same time, the APB came in from Spokane PD with the DMV photo of Glen Hamilton, and a sketch that looked similar but different. Leaner face, shorter and darker hair. He’d seen this guy.

“Detective?” Tolliver prompted. His hand was on the truck door, but he didn’t open it.

“Take a good look,” Knolls said. “I know I’ve seen him, but I can’t place it.”

Tolliver stared. “I haven’t, but I’ve been on traffic detail until two days ago.”

It would come to him. “The residents are Peter and Denise Richmond. Records show that they’ve lived here nine years.” He nodded toward the porch, which had several bikes stacked. Probably used them over the weekend and hadn’t put them in the garage before the storm. “Looks like they have kids. Don’t want to spook them, but we should convey that they need to be cautious.”

They got out of the police truck and approached the house. Andy rapped on the door, then they both stepped back. He took a look up and down the snowy street. It was nice, with mature trees, looked like a good neighborhood to raise kids. Most of Liberty Lake was.

He narrowed his gaze. A dark gray sedan was parked on the T intersection, on Dover Street. Was that a Camry? He couldn’t tell; snowfall was interfering with his sight.

Tolliver knocked again before Andy could tell his partner to hold off. “They could be at work,” he said.

Andy spoke into the radio on his lapel. “Officer needs assistance three-six-nine Vine Street. Dark gray Camry parked at corner of Dover and Vine.”

Tolliver whirled around. “Shit,” he said.

The door opened.

Andy put his hand on the butt of his gun. Three thoughts went through his head simultaneously.

I don’t want to scare the Richmonds.

I smell blood.

I know where I’ve seen Hamilton.

Tolliver was looking at the car.

Andy was pulling his gun.

“Hands where I can see them!” Andy ordered Hamilton. “Drop the knife!”

Glen Hamilton had blood on his clothes and hair, but he had clearly washed his face and hands, which were starkly white against his stained clothing. He ran out the door, right at Andy. Andy pulled his gun, but Glen pushed him down the front stairs before he could fire. His gun fell from his hand into the snow. He reached for it as the knife came down.

He tried to roll to the side for his weapon.

“Eric!” Andy shouted. “Shoot him!”

Sharp pain tore at Andy’s side, a stinging sensation that had him frozen.

Fight back. Fight back or you’ll die.

Hamilton screamed, pulled the knife up along Andy’s side, and Andy drew in a sharp breath as waves of agony pulsed through him.

Eric Tolliver struggled to pull Glen off Andy.

“Shoot him!” Andy tried to scream again, but he couldn’t catch his breath.

Hamilton didn’t hesitate. He stabbed Tolliver in the chest as Andy watched, his vision fading.