She Can Hide (She Can Series) (20 page)

Oh shit.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Abby stood in the middle of the kitchen as Ethan disappeared into the garage. Zeus whined but didn’t strain against the leash. Fear bubbled into her throat. Moonlight filtered through the blinds and slanted across the table. The exterior of her laptop gleamed dull silver. She wanted to sit down and turn on the computer, but she couldn’t move. Fear paralyzed every muscle in her body.

She strained her eyes to see into the shadows. Outside the front window, a branch rubbed against the glass. There was no other noise. The house was silent. No hum of the refrigerator. No rattle of the heater. Silence rubbed her nerves like a rasp, and the darkness pressed in on her.

Just like the last time she’d been trapped in the dark.

Zeus leaned on her leg and whined again, no doubt picking up on her distress. This was stupid. If there was anyone in the house, Zeus would know about it. As sweet as his disposition was, his breeding could not be denied. His ancestors had been guard dogs for thousands of years. No one was getting in on his watch.

There was no reason for her current panic. But if there were scratches on her window, then maybe someone
did
try to get inside yesterday. Whoever might have been in her house was long gone. The dog was settling, and Ethan had already done the under-the-beds-and-in-the-closets check.

The dog bumped her hip with his nose. Abby couldn’t even move to stroke his head. Her brain circuits were as dead as the electrical lines running through her house.

Despair swelled. It wasn’t fair. As hard as she’d tried to put the past behind her, it continued to give chase, snapping at her heels like the hounds of her own private hell.

The lights turned on, flooding the room with brightness. Next to the laptop, her printer beeped. The light on the cordless phone charger blinked. From the kitchen, she heard the hum of the refrigerator shifting into operation. Beyond, the heater clanked and groaned.

As the house came to life, relief flooded Abby. She grabbed her overnight bag and ran upstairs, flicking lights on all the way to her bedroom. She opened the bag, tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper, and grabbed clean clothes for another couple of days. In the closet, she accessed her safe and removed her mother’s Glock. She’d been lucky she’d been able to reach Ethan’s gun when the detective’s murderer had confronted them. They both could have been killed. The memory sent fear sliding through her belly.

She tucked the handgun into the side pocket of the suitcase. On second thought, she also grabbed the cash and untraceable cell, stuffed both in her suitcase, and zipped it closed.

“Abby, we have to get out of here,” Ethan yelled from downstairs.

She pulled her bag from the bed and carried it down the steps. Ethan grabbed it from her hand and pulled her toward the front door. The grim set of his mouth warned her that the news wasn’t good.

“What is it?” She snagged her purse from the desk.

“Just come.” He bent down and picked up Zeus’s dragging leash from the floor. “Please. I’ll explain once we’re outside.”

Abby tucked her laptop under her arm and followed him. Ethan didn’t stop until they were in the street.

He turned to face her. Temper flashed across his face. “Someone broke into your garage through the window.” He paused. His breath blew out in an angry foggy huff. “And left what appear to be homemade explosive devices on the floor.”

“Homemade explosive devices?” Abby’s head whirled. “You mean bombs?”

He pressed buttons on his cell. “Yes. I’m calling in the bomb squad.”

“Someone tried to blow up my house?”

“Maybe. These look like bottle bombs, which are usually made with household products that have a chemical reaction when combined. Mostly kids use them to blow up mailboxes. People have lost fingers or been blinded by the liquid that disseminates upon detonation.” He swept a hand through his black hair.

“But you don’t know what’s inside these bottles?”

“No.”

“So I can’t go back into my house?”

“Sorry, not until the building has been cleared. We’ll have to clear out your immediate neighbors too.”

“I don’t understand.” Abby put a palm to her forehead.

“Movement can make them explode,” Ethan explained. “So if you had gone into the garage and started picking up bottles or tripped over one…”

“Chain reaction.”

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m going to move the rental car.”

“I’ll do it.” Ethan set down her luggage and took her keys from her hand. He backed the sedan into the street and parked it two houses down. Abby walked over. She put her suitcase in the trunk and Zeus in the back, then dumped her purse and computer in the passenger seat.

She turned and scanned Derek’s house. Krista’s car sat in the driveway. No truck. But a light glowed upstairs in Derek’s window. “Derek is home.”

Ethan’s lips flattened out. “Get in the car with Zeus and lock the doors. I’ll go knock on the door.”

Derek didn’t answer Ethan’s knock. The boy was probably afraid. Abby grabbed her phone and called his house. He answered on the second ring, and she gave him a quick explanation. A minute later, light spilled onto the cement as Derek opened the front door, jacket and sneakers in hand. Ethan hustled the boy down the driveway.

Abby got out of the truck. “Is your mom home?”

Stooping down to slide his sneakers onto his feet, Derek shook his head.

Two official county police vehicles parked behind Ethan’s cruiser, lights swirling. Derek sidled behind Abby as the cops got out and spoke to Ethan.

“It’s all right,” Abby said.

But the despair that washed over Derek’s face disagreed.

Abby’s stomach clenched. “What’s wrong?”

A tear slipped out of Derek’s eyes and caught the moonlight. He gave his head a fast shake.

“You need to tell me if it’s important, Derek.”

He sniffed. “It’s Joe.”

“Your mom’s boyfriend? The bald guy?”

“Yeah.” Derek took three rapid breaths as if hyperventilation was imminent. “I think he’s cooking meth in the basement.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Stuff I saw down there. Chemicals. Equipment.”

“I need to tell Ethan.”

“I know.” Derek looked away.

Abby waved at Ethan.

Ethan walked over. “They’re going to start clearing out all your immediate neighbors.”

“Derek says his mother’s boyfriend brought some suspicious stuff into their basement.”

Ethan’s posture sharpened. “Is he there now?”

Derek shook his head.

“Do you know where he went?” Ethan asked.

“No.”

“When did he leave?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, his voice cracking. “They were gone when I got home.”

Dread pooled in Abby’s belly.

“Where’s your mom, Derek?” Ethan asked.

Derek’s shoulders shook. His silence sent another wave of unease rippling through Abby. Derek feared two things. That something would happen to his mom because of her addiction and that he’d end up back in the foster care system. Tonight, his worst fears could be realized.

Ethan and Abby exchanged a look. Ethan’s face was grim.

“When did you see her last, Derek?” Abby asked gently.

“This morning. Before I went to school.”

Abby whipped out her cell. “I’ll call the restaurant where she works and see if they’ve seen her.”

But as she dialed the number she already knew they hadn’t seen Krista.

Krista’s head lolled. The hit Joe had given her earlier was wearing thin, but her mind was still fuzzy and cluttered. She blinked hard. The cab of Joe’s pickup came into focus. A whir and clang startled her. She looked beyond the inside of the truck. A two-car garage. An old sedan was parked next to her.

“Rise and shine.” The door opened. Joe grabbed her by the hair. Pain made a vague stab at her tingly and numb scalp. She pressed her hands to her head. She stumbled out of the truck and fell. Her knees hit the concrete. “Where are we?”

“We have new digs.” His movements were jerky, his eyes chemical-bright. “Get up.”

Krista pulled her wobbly legs under her and followed him. She’d learned doing what she was told didn’t eliminate the pain but lessened the severity of her punishment.

She’d also learned she didn’t really have a death wish. She wanted to see her son again.

Not that it mattered much. There was no way Joe was letting her go alive. She’d seen too much.

Joe released her hair and shoved her ahead of him. They went through a doorway and into a kitchen. Krista’s feet slipped. She looked down. The floor was smeared with red.

Blood.

The scream burst from her throat.

Joe’s slap cut it off. “Shut the fuck up.”

Her head snapped back. Already dizzy, she fell backward. Her head hit the floor. As her vision went dark, she looked into a pair of dead eyes.

Hours later, Ethan sat in the chief’s office waiting for his boss to finish his call. Ethan crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the trash can. Abby’s turkey sandwich was still in the bag, unopened.

“You should try to eat,” he prompted.

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Ethan said.

“I know.” Her gaze went to the closed door. In the conference room next door, the police artist was working with Derek to get a composite sketch of Joe. Hopefully, his description would be detailed enough to get a lead on Joe’s identity.

The chief hung up his desk phone. “Joe wasn’t just making meth in Derek’s basement.”

Ethan’s gaze snapped up. He lowered the cheesesteak he’d been about to bite. “But Derek said he had an assortment of chemicals, a scale, and a hot plate down there.”

“He did.” The chief’s gaze shifted to Abby. “All this is preliminary. Verification will have to wait until the lab tests come back, but the evidence team found traces of meth production, in addition to the necessary household ingredients and equipment to make the chemical bombs and the GHB that poisoned Abby. It looks like Joe is a well-rounded amateur chemist.”

Abby’s hands tightened on the arm of the chair. “Krista’s boyfriend poisoned me?”

“That’s our working hypothesis,” the chief said. “They found fingerprints. They’re running them now.”

She dropped her forehead into her fingertips.

“We should be able to get an ID on this guy.” Ethan set his sandwich aside. The man who tried to kill Abby—twice—had been living right next to her this whole time. “With all that going on, I doubt this is his first crime.”

Abby lifted her head. “Why would Krista’s boyfriend try to kill me?”

“When did she start dating this guy?” Ethan asked.

“About a week before…” She stopped. Her skin faded from white to whiter.

Ethan reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold and didn’t return his squeeze. “Just enough time to learn your schedule and figure out how to administer the GHB.”

“But why?” Abby rubbed her temples. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“We won’t know that until we identify him.” Ethan touched her forearm.

Someone knocked then opened the door. The police artist stuck his head into the office. “We’re finished.”

He handed the sketch to the chief, who turned it to Abby. “Does he look familiar?”

She studied the picture. “I’m not sure. I only saw him once in the dark and once from a distance.”

“But you don’t know him from anywhere else?” Ethan asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

The chief studied the drawing. “What about height, weight, or body type?”

Ethan leaned over and looked at the picture. “Derek said the guy is a little bigger than me. Similar build. So, estimate six-two, one-ninety.”

“Let’s get this distributed.” The chief handed the sketch back to the artist. “I want to find this guy.”

Abby picked up her water bottle and stood. “I’m going to see how Derek is doing.”

Ethan followed her. Theories rumbled through his head. Joe was a serial killer. Doubtful. The methods of attempted murder didn’t seem to fit a serial killer. He kept the possibility in the back of his head, but the attempts on Abby seemed too impersonal.

They went into the conference room. Derek was stuffing the end of a foot-long meatball sub into his mouth.