Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,20

they came to 1457. The address had been spray painted on the curb. “Doesn’t look like anyone is living there. No one is living in any of these houses yet. Why would Candace Harlan use this address? She couldn’t have pulled it out of thin air.”

“Not likely.”

Katie parked. “Let’s go look at a house,” she said flatly as her nerves buzzed at a low level in her arms. She didn’t like being in an unknown area without knowing exactly what to expect—she was glad that McGaven was with her.

Opening the car door, “Okay…”

Both of them stepped out onto the street and did a slow inspection of the neighborhood.

Katie shut her eyes for a moment to let her other senses check for anything out of place. It was a trick that she had honed in the army. There was no birdsong, which seemed strange. The subtle breeze rattled the heavy plastic covering the windows on the house across the street. Opening her eyes and looking down, she noticed that the street was exceptionally clean without so much as a piece of paper or leaf out of place—nothing blew along the ground.

“It is 1457?” asked McGaven with a hint of skepticism to his voice.

“Yep.”

“Just double checking,” he said, filling the tense silence with chitchat which wasn’t customary for him.

“This is the address. Let’s check it out.”

“I’ll take a loop around the perimeter.”

Katie nodded and headed toward the front door.

Walking across the landscaped yard, she felt her boot heels sink slightly into the typical dirt/sand combination of California soil. The windows and doors had been recently installed. The trim was freshly painted white to contrast the dark blue of the house. The smell of paint charged her senses as she stepped up to the front door painted red with a small window at the top. She stretched her body and stood on her tiptoes to see inside. It was empty, and there were missing appliances in the kitchen. There was no sign of anyone living there—ever.

She walked around to the large living-room window and peered inside. It was empty but the carpet had been installed recently—there were still company-branded stickers at the corners. Random pieces of garbage were scattered all over the floor. It was clear that the final clean-up hadn’t been done. This was a brand-new house and was almost ready for its first residents—no doubt about it.

Katie heard footsteps coming along behind the house. They were too quick and light to belong to McGaven. She hurried around the corner to find a man dressed in a dark hoodie and dark pants walking her way. His face was obscured by the sweatshirt hood pulled tight and he stopped dead when he saw Katie, then turned and sprinted away.

“Wait!” she said, breaking into a sprint after him. “Wait! Sheriff’s department! Stop!”

The faster she ran, the more he increased his speed. As Katie pursued, she couldn’t help but think that she had seen this person before.

But where?

Katie pumped her arms faster, wishing she was in her running shoes.

That’s it!

When they had been at Elm Hill Mansion, she had paused a moment before entering the crime-scene area and glanced at the group of onlookers. She was sure that there had been a person matching the general build and dress of the guy she was now chasing.

Her heart pounded with effort and adrenalin as she chased the man around two houses and through a backyard. Jumping over some leftover pieces of drywall and empty paint buckets, she had to use all of her running endurance to keep up.

Katie kept her pace with the fleeing sprinter, but she wasn’t gaining on him. Then he ducked behind a house, pushing over a pile of supplies stacked high in the front yard and causing her to slow to avoid an ambush. Crouching down and pulling her weapon, she approached the six-foot-high pile of scaffolding boards with caution, directing her gun in front of her. Inching to the corner, she peered around to the other side.

No one was there.

After a few tense seconds, she inched around to the other side.

It was deserted as well.

Relaxing her arms slightly, she lowered her weapon. Second-guessing herself, she thought maybe she had been chasing a teenager instead of someone that had been at the crime scene.

Then a dark blur darted out nearby and headed out toward the road again.

Katie bolted, running as fast as she could and jumping every obstacle in her path, weaving around discarded drywall, two-by-fours, and dozens of buckets of paint