reach Dutton. Still there was no sign of Dutton’s vehicle leaving the development.
Josie put the car in drive, a sinking feeling in her stomach, and headed toward the Dutton residence. She parked on the street and together, she and Noah approached the house. They knocked on the door but there was no answer. They rang the doorbell. Nothing.
“I don’t like this,” Josie said.
“We can’t go in without cause,” Noah said.
Josie took out her phone and fired off a text to Gretchen. “I’m going to ask her to make sure attempts to contact both the husband and the wife have been made. Wait here, I’m going to see if any of the neighbors are home. Maybe one of them has a key.”
Noah stood at the front door, alternately knocking and ringing the doorbell to no avail while Josie went door to door along the street. Of the six houses she went to, three of the neighbors either weren’t home or didn’t answer. Two didn’t have keys. The last neighbor was Connie Prather. She answered the door in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that said Mama Bear on it. In her arms was her tiny dog.
“Mrs. Prather,” Josie said. “By any chance do you have a key to the Duttons’ home?”
“What’s going on?”
“Mr. Dutton was supposed to meet his attorney at the police station this morning, and he didn’t show up. Both vehicles are there, but we’re not able to get in touch with Marisol or her husband.”
“Oh,” Connie said. “I don’t—well, I might have one from a long time ago. I don’t know if it would still work, but I can—”
“Could you get it for us?” Josie asked, cutting her short.
“Um, sure, I guess. Wait here.”
Josie could see Noah’s outline on the Duttons’ front steps from where she stood. It took Connie thirteen minutes to find the key. She left her dog in the house and walked to the Duttons’ with Josie. “This is so strange,” Connie said. “Maybe they just didn’t want to pay the fines.”
Josie was deciding whether or not to tell Connie that Dutton wasn’t going to the police station to work out the fines the Chief had levied against him for the supplies Quail Hollow had taken illegally, when a concussive boom shook the air around them. Both women froze. Josie looked toward the Dutton house where Noah was already kicking the front door. Josie left Connie behind and ran toward Noah, unsnapping her holster as she ran. By the time Josie reached him, the door had broken away from its frame. Noah took out his pistol and pushed inside. Behind him, Josie was ready, gun in hand, following him as he cleared each room on the first floor. Finding no one, he pointed toward the ceiling and Josie nodded. She let Noah lead as they padded up the steps.
Behind the second door in the upstairs hall, Marisol slumped on the floor at the foot of a king-sized bed. Her hair was greasy and unkempt. Blood trickled from a split in her bottom lip. When she looked up at them, Josie saw that her nose had been smashed in, and her left eye was black and swollen.
“Gun,” Josie said quietly to Noah.
“I see it,” he said, advancing on Marisol. He pointed to the Glock on the floor beside her. “Mrs. Dutton, I need you to move away from the weapon.”
Josie went in the opposite direction, where Kurt Dutton lay in a heap on the floor near a large walk-in closet. A gunshot wound in his chest pulsed blood. Josie checked him for weapons but saw none. Dropping to her knees, she took off her jacket and used it to put pressure on the wound. With one hand she felt for a pulse. It was weak and thready. “Noah,” she said. “He’s not going to make it. We need an ambulance now.”
Noah had helped Marisol onto the side of the bed. He took out his phone and made the call.
“Marisol, what happened here?”
Noah and Josie looked toward the bedroom doorway where Connie stood, face pale, eyes wide, taking in the destruction in the large room. Overturned furniture, broken lamps, blood stains in the carpet.
Josie said, “Connie, stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.”
Connie seemed not to hear her, eyes still glued to Marisol, but she didn’t step inside the room. “Mar?” she said.
Tears streamed down Marisol’s face. She hugged her middle, flinching, and looked over at Josie. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Josie said. “But he’s lost a lot