The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,40

missing and gaps on bookshelves where books had been removed. There was also no computer, typewriter, or other office equipment present except for a phone. These were probably items Brown had placed into storage while away. No sense tempting the guests.

Cole picked up the phone, but found the line dead. Brown had probably turned off the service.

Even though a forced entry on the second floor was unlikely, Cole checked the windows and doors leading out to the deck. He found them undisturbed, and moved to the master bedroom.

The master was large, messy, and disappointing. Cole had hoped to learn whether Smith left voluntarily by seeing if his clothes and toiletries were missing, but it was obvious the owner had left a huge wardrobe behind. The large master closet and bathroom were crowded with many more clothes and toiletries than a temporary house sitter would have brought. Cole had no way of knowing what belonged to Brown and what, if anything, belonged to Smith, so he couldn’t tell if any of Smith’s things were missing. There were even a few women’s clothes, but these could as easily belong to a girlfriend of Brown’s as Dru Rayne.

Cole found only one item he knew belonged to Smith. A battered metal file box was on the floor beside the bed. It contained receipts, invoices, and billing statements pertaining to the sandwich shop, a pink slip for a 2002 Tercel, insurance policies, and the other mundane paperwork of day-to-day life. Nothing that couldn’t be left behind for a couple of weeks, and nothing anyone would steal.

Finished with the second floor, Cole went downstairs. He began in the laundry room, saw Pike’s marks on the window, then quickly moved to the downstairs bedroom. Wilson up in the master, his niece in the lower. Unlike the master, the bed was made and the room was clean, neat, and orderly. The windows had not been tampered with. Cole found a few women’s tops, dresses, and jeans in the closet. There weren’t many clothes, but Cole had no way to know if this was everything the woman owned or if she had packed a few things for a trip.

Cole moved to the kitchen, which opened into a large family room lined with French doors showing a pleasant view of the canal. Another dead digital phone sat on the counter near a sink stacked with dishes. The dishes bothered him. It was like the goat heads and blood. Nobody would walk away from a mess like that, but Button claimed that was exactly what Wilson had done. Cole had a bad feeling about it, but in and of itself it proved nothing. Except maybe that Smith was a slob.

The fridge was scaled with takeout menus held on by magnets. Cole opened it and found the refrigerator stocked with milk, beer, soda, and what appeared to be fried oysters and shrimp in greasy white cartons. Would two people in the restaurant business leave food they knew would go bad in the refrigerator?

When Cole closed the fridge, he noticed a hand-printed note taped to the door. He hadn’t seen it before because it was lost among the takeout menus.

IF EMERGENCY, CALL 911.

PLUMBING PROBLEM, CALL NICKY TATE - 323-555-8402 IF YOU NEED ME WHILE I’M IN LONDON STEVE - 310-555-3691

London was eight hours ahead. It was late, but Steve Brown might be up. If Smith took the time to call Button, maybe he called his landlord, too. Cole dialed the number.

Brown’s phone rang six times before voice mail picked up.

“Mr. Brown, my name is Elvis Cole. I’m in Los Angeles. Would you please give me a call about Wilson Smith and Dru Rayne?”

Cole left his number, hung up, then went to the window over the sink. It was the last thing he would check before leaving. He had found no hard evidence of either an abduction or a trip, and was already deciding which of his LAPD contacts to call about Mendoza and Gomer. The house had been a bust, and his head was out of the game.

He studied the window’s latches and interior frame, and that’s when he saw a single deep cut on an exterior part of the frame. A thin, bright groove sparkled across the metal near the latch, far shinier than the surrounding metal. Cole touched the handle, and the window slid effortlessly open. Once the window was open, he saw a deep dimple in the frame. Cole closed the window. He stared at it for a few seconds,