her partner, scowling. “What?”
He waved his phone and said, “Carter—the other potential victims are safe and accounted for. Uniforms outside their homes. Doors locked. Mr. Castle is the only one in the wind.”
Adele cursed and returned her attention to her phone. “Mr. Castle, look, I know you’re a blood donor, AB negative, I know you were born 1956. All right—I’m saying this not to scare you, but so you know I’m with the agency. I need you to tell me where you are, right this instant.”
A pause—a precious pause. Adele knew at this very moment, he was deciding if he could trust her. She exhaled in frustration, closing her eyes and waiting.
And then the voice on the other end said, “214 East Sage Street. There’s a key in a plastic stone out front. I’ll be inside—I’ll head to the basement. Can’t you tell me what this is about?”
“I will, sir. Don’t panic, but please do lock yourself in. Do not let anyone in. I mean it! Are the doors already locked?”
“The front is. But…” He trailed off and then his voice carried an edge. “I let the couple I was showing the house onto the back porch—they wanted to look at the bird feeders. I—I think I may have forgotten to lock it.”
Adele bit her lip, but said, “Sir, please, do so now. Head to the basement and stay put. We’re on our way.”
Then she spun on John. “Others are all accounted for?”
He nodded. “Their babysitters will call if they get a glimpse of Mr. Davis.”
“So they haven’t? No sign of him?”
John winced and shook his head. He gestured airily toward her ear. “Was that our missing puzzle piece?”
Adele was already rushing back to the car. She was sick of driving, sick of GPS, sick of rushing place to place. It felt like they were still one step behind.
She felt a shivering sensation at the thought as she thrust into the driver’s seat. One step behind… Just one step… But sometimes, one step was all a killer needed.
***
Arthur Castle lowered his phone, wrinkling his nose. He sighed softly and glanced along the dim glow from the light above the kitchen table. He hesitated for a moment, spotting a streak in the polish of the furniture. He frowned now, retrieving a paper towel and rubbing at the streak.
He hoped the clients hadn’t seen it—this sale was an important one. Inwardly, he made a mental note to hire another cleaning service next time. Streaks on tables were unacceptable, especially given the amount he’d paid the cleaning crew.
Mr. Castle frowned, pausing for a moment and feeling his back begin to ache from where he bent over. He winced and straightened—he didn’t move like he used to. His son, Jeremy, had often tried to convince him to retire. But Mr. Castle hated the very thought—what would he do all day? Watch TV, mull over crosswords? No thank you. He’d be selling houses until the day he died.
For a moment, all that mattered was the streak on the table. He rubbed at it, and even retrieved some soap, scrubbing the surface with a rag. He frowned—not much better. Maybe it was an imperfection in the wood itself. He’d have to see if he could still return the piece.
As he stood there, he felt a faint breeze across his neck and frowned. He looked up, glancing through the house. Such a strange phone call. He’d thought it had been a particularly zealous client given the volume of missed calls. He always kept his phone on silent when showing a house. Now, though, he began to move away from the table.
That was right, the loud lady had wanted him to lock the back door. Hadn’t even bothered to tell him what this was about. Jeremy was a powerful attorney in San Francisco—and Mr. Castle was very proud of his son. If something had happened to his only child, he wasn’t sure what he would do.
These thoughts troubled him as he moved slowly, carefully, along the hall toward the back sliding screen door which led into the backyard.
He paused for a moment, feeling another breeze across his face. Had he left a window open, too? The house was quite large—quite nice. It would be a big sale if he could manage it.
Then again, Mr. Castle was the third most prolific agent in the county. He smiled in pride at the thought and moved toward the back door before pulling up sharply.
His expression of satisfaction slowly morphed into a