A trooper across the parking lot gestured to them, saving Avery from having to say anything.
“The search warrant must’ve come through,” Weston said. “Come on.”
Avery fell into step beside him, snapping her mind back into professional mode. They went through the necessary procedures. Avery tugged on a set of latex gloves and entered Room 106.
It was a wreck. The bedding had been partially stripped and lay halfway off the bed. Clothes were strewn across the floor. The bedside lamp had been smashed. The closet door was cocked open, revealing several sets of shoes and a dirty backpack. Cigarette butts littered the small table next to the window.
She peeked in the bathroom. Towels and toilet paper mingled on the wet floor. Avery wrinkled her nose. “I can’t tell if there was a struggle in here or if Victor is just a slob.”
“Probably a bit of both.” Weston pushed open the closet door. He stiffened.
“What?” Avery asked. “What is it?”
“Photographs. Of Debra.”
She came up next to him and sucked in a sharp breath. Taped along the back wall of the closet were hundreds of photographs. Debra was in every single one, and it appeared they’d been taken without her knowledge. She was at the grocery store, a fast-food place, in the driveway of her home. Red marks crossed out her face in many of the pictures. Curse words had been scratched onto others.
It was the work of an obsessed man. And an enraged one.
Avery’s phone rang. She yanked it from her pocket, barely taking her eyes off of the pictures to glance at the screen. It was her sister.
Avery answered. “I can’t talk right now.”
“Don’t hang up.” Savannah’s voice was devoid of emotion and completely calm. It was her sister’s military tone, shaped through almost a decade in the Army. She only used it in time of crisis. “Where are you? Are you with Weston?”
Avery locked down her own emotions, even as her mind ran through the worst. “Yes. I’m with Weston. What is it?”
Weston’s head snapped in her direction. He stepped closer.
“I got off early today and picked up Cooper on my way home so he could spend some time with Nana.” Savannah had a key to Avery’s house and often took the dog if she had free time. Especially if Avery was working long hours. “Nana and I were bringing him back to your place when—” She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. So is Nana. We aren’t hurt, but I need you to come home. Now. And bring Weston with you.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. “What is it? What happened?”
“You need to get here, Avery. You need to see it for yourself.”
Eight
Avery counted every mile to her house in heartbeats and prayers. The chatter from the police scanner in Weston’s official vehicle increased her anxiety. Additional units had been requested. The neighborhood was being searched.
She gripped the handle over the passenger side window as Weston turned into the neighborhood. Half a dozen patrol cars were sitting in front of her home, along with several ambulances. Avery’s stomach twisted. Did Savannah lie? Had something happened to Nana? A thousand possibilities flashed in her mind. She opened the truck door before Weston could come to a complete stop and jumped out.
“Avery, wait,” Weston said.
She barely heard him as instinct overtook logic. She raced past the yellow crime scene tape. Mike stood in the driveway. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair was standing out in sharp spikes, as if he’d forgotten to comb it. He intercepted her, holding up his hands. “Your family is okay, kid. No one was hurt.”
Weston came up beside her. Avery gestured to the vehicles in the street. “The ambulances—”
“A precaution. When Savannah called 911, they sent out EMS too.” Mike met her gaze. “I promise. Your grandmother and Savannah aren’t hurt.”
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. “What happened?”
“The killer sent you another message.” Mike shifted, revealing her front door.
A small pocket-sized notebook was stabbed through and held in place with a large kitchen knife. The open pages fluttered in the crisp breeze.
Avery stepped forward. Her boots scraped against the steps. Familiar handwriting, illuminated by her porch light, stole her breath. “That’s…that’s one of my dad’s notebooks.”
“Savannah found it when she came to drop off your dog,” Mike said. “Your grandmother was with her. They called the police immediately and then phoned you. Savannah didn’t want to wait for responders out here in the dark. She did the smart thing, loading both the dog and Mrs. Madison into her car. They drove back to your grandmother’s house.”
Of course she had. Her sister was a soldier, used to combat. Although Savannah carried a concealed firearm, that didn’t make her invincible, and her first priority would be getting Nana to safety. “Did they encounter the killer?”
“No. He was long gone by then. It doesn’t appear as though the killer went inside your house.”
But he’d been on the property. If Savannah and Nana had arrived while he was still here… Avery let out a shuddering breath. “I should’ve warned Savannah and Nana not to come here.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Weston said softly. She tore her attention away from the notebook and knife in her door. Red and blue turret lights flashed over Weston’s face. His expression was grim. “Are you sure that’s your dad’s notebook?”
“It looks like his handwriting. Anyone have a set of gloves?”
Mike waved to a deputy who located several pairs. Avery slipped her set on. She edged closer to the door. Every step racketed up the tension inside her, but