Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,63

the patio from the sun if she chose. Probably wouldn’t do a lot of good with the wind though.

The patio was decorated with a large turquoise rug made for the outdoors. On the left, tucked into an indention in the railing, were two rattan chairs, a small table between them. To the right, a wicker barrel chair with a turquoise-colored cushion that looked as though it could seat five full-size adults. There were a few throw pillows, none of which were faded by the sun, suggesting either they were new or Corinne kept them stored.

“Notice the chair’s dry,” Detective Buchanan stated. “And everything else is still wet from last night’s rain.”

That was a good observation. And the detective was right. It would mean that Corinne would’ve had to come home after she left the bar, taken the cushion out from wherever she kept it. If it had been left out while she was at the bar, it would’ve been soaked.

Reese stepped around the chair to see what was on the other side. There on a small side table was a dark bottle, a wineglass with maybe a swallow left in it. Beside it, a cell phone.

“Detective, you might wanna check this out.”

The man stepped forward, clearly sensing Reese’s concern.

Pulling on a latex glove, the detective picked up the phone, tapped the screen, bringing it to life.

“This is Ms. Greenwood’s phone,” he muttered.

Reese didn’t bother to mention they’d overlooked this earlier. The look on Brantley’s face said it all. He’d likely been hoping to find exactly what they’d found earlier. Nothing to show Corinne had come here after her night out. Because the blinds were all closed, the doors shut, Reese hadn’t even thought to come outside.

He watched as Detective Buchanan skimmed through what appeared to be a bunch of missed calls. Likely from her mother. Maybe some additional ones from family and friends having heard the news, hoping to ping the phone and get Corinne to answer.

A phone rang, but it wasn’t the one in the detective’s hand.

Brantley stepped away as he took the call. Reese listened as Brantley greeted JJ, then the silence that followed.

“Yeah,” was the response, the inflection noting Brantley’s disappointment. “I know. We’re here. Reese found it, actually. No. She’s not here. Just the phone.”

More silence, followed by a quick goodbye.

“That was JJ. She was calling to tell me she’d gotten a bead on the phone.”

Reese nodded.

“If she met with someone after she came home,” Detective Buchanan said, “they didn’t call her and she didn’t call them. Looks like the missed ones are from Mom.”

“Yeah,” Reese agreed. “We’ve already checked all the numbers.”

That seemed to catch the detective’s attention.

“We’ve had a little more time to look into it,” Reese explained. “We got the call from Corinne’s mother this morning.”

Turning back to the outdoor furniture, Reese imagined Corinne coming home after a night out with friends. Grabbing another glass of wine, stepping outside. She probably enjoyed sitting out here. Perhaps it had been one of the reasons she’d picked this place. The view, the solitude.

But the storm had blown through sometime around midnight. Maybe it had already passed when she got back? Maybe she was drawn out here by the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance? In his mind’s eye, he saw her curling up on the chair with her wineglass, reflecting on her night? Thinking about her friends, what she’d be doing today when she woke up? Texting the man she’d met at the bar.

“Someone came here,” Reese pondered. “She was sittin’ out here, drinkin’ wine, texting. Someone knocks on the front door, she sets her glass down, goes to see who it is. Explains why the back door was left unlocked.”

Brantley watched him, looking as though he was turning the words over to figure them out.

“Which means it was unexpected,” the detective mused. “She didn’t plan to leave.”

Brantley sighed and Reese could feel the man’s tension.

“We should check the security cameras in the building,” Reese told them, glancing down at his watch.

Thirteen hours since Corinne Greenwood was last seen by Suzy Dumonde walking into this building.

Thirteen and a half since her friends had bid her a good night.

He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he knew they were likely thinking the same thing: They were running out of time.

***

Cori came awake with a headache that throbbed behind her eyes. It took a minute to realize where she was, remember how she got there. The knock on her door, the gun, being forced out of the