checking account—one where the bounty money could be sent.
She had the email all ready to send to that woman. All she had to do was send the routing number of her bank with it, then sit back and wait for whatever came next.
* * *
It was after 8 a.m. when Wyrick woke up. She rolled over to check the time and then stretched, reveling in the leisure of a slow morning, before getting up to shower and dress.
She sent a text to Millie Chriss, telling her that they were staying on the case until the man who took Rachel was behind bars, and then went down to find something to eat.
She started her cup of coffee to brewing, and poked around in the refrigerator and then the pantry.
What she wanted was pancakes and bacon, but she didn’t know how to make pancakes, and frying bacon was dangerous. Food should not hurt. So she opted for a bowl of cereal. She decided to put some fruit on it, and was eyeing the bowl of cherry tomatoes, then decided that was more adventure than she was ready for, and picked a container of blackberries instead.
She was eating a blackberry and pouring cereal in her bowl when Charlie walked in. She waved her spoon and kept chewing.
Charlie grinned. “Good morning to you, too.”
He made himself coffee and toast, then got butter and jelly from the fridge and joined her at the table.
“Called Detective Floyd yet?” Wyrick asked and then poked another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
Charlie shook his head. “I wanted to wait until we were both in on the call, in case he asked for details.”
She nodded, and while they were eating Wyrick got a text. It was from Millie. She read it aloud.
“Millie says Rachel is stable. Her fever is down a couple of degrees. The doctor is happy with her progress, and Millie’s husband arrived last night.”
“Good news,” Charlie said.
Wyrick nodded, finished her cereal and carried the bowl to the sink, then sat back down at the table and started reading the morning news on her phone.
She would have rather watched Charlie eat, because everything he did was sexy, right down to licking butter off his thumb.
As soon as he carried his dishes to the sink, he refilled his coffee and came back to the table.
“Are you ready to talk to the cops?”
“Yes,” she said and laid down her phone.
Charlie made the call, then put it on speaker and waited for the detective to answer. It rang a couple of times and Wyrick frowned.
“It’s Saturday. Maybe he’s off?”
“Not with a kidnapper on the loose,” Charlie said. But just when he thought it was going to go to voice mail, Floyd answered.
“Hey, Charlie. Sorry. I was dropping my son off at his grandma’s for the day. What’s up?”
“Wyrick uncovered more information last night. She thought you might already know it, but just in case you didn’t, she wanted to pass it on. I have the call on speaker and she’s right here, so I’m going to let her explain.”
“With Rachel Dean still unconscious, any help in this case is appreciated,” Floyd said. “Good morning, Wyrick. I’m listening.”
“Okay...here’s where I went with research last night, and you are officially welcome to shoot it all down. Only I would advise you not to, but that’s just me.”
They heard Floyd chuckle. “Ma’am, after witnessing you in action the past few days, I’m not shooting down anything you have to say.”
Wyrick continued, “Since Rachel Dean was found on site, I went with the premise that the kidnapper likely lives on site, too. Her presence there made it easy for him to come and go at his leisure. So by a process of elimination of the names of people who’ve lived at Detter House since the first woman went missing, there are only two men who’ve lived there long enough to have had access to all four women. A man named J.J. Burch, who’s been there fourteen years, and a man named Lou Nunez, who’s been there twelve years.”
“Wow. No. We hadn’t begun to dip back that far. How on earth did you get access to records that old—?”
“Don’t ask,” Charlie said.
There was a moment of silence, and then Floyd chuckled again.
“Okay. Message received, and, lady, you sure don’t mess around.”
“There’s no time,” Wyrick said. “You will need to interview both of them and fast, or the guilty party will likely disappear.”
“They’re all already gone,” Floyd said. “Allen Carson moved them to the Ritz-Carlton on