“His attorney has already demanded his release. Graham Voss disappeared from his home before deputies arrived.”
“Someone warned him,” Ben said.
“Probably.”
“Inside the department?”
“Possibly.”
I looked out at trees blurred by rain.
“Rosie knew.”
Daniel nodded. “She included Graham’s payments for a reason.”
“Why hasn’t Graham exposed Richard?”
“Money. Fear. Or because Richard’s version contains some truth.”
I hated that possibility.
Villains were easier when every word they spoke was false.
The cottage appeared shortly before noon.
Its white paint peeled from the siding, revealing traces of faded blue beneath. The porch sagged. Weeds had swallowed the stone path.
Ben tried the brass key on the front door.
It did not fit.
We searched the porch, shed, and storm cellar.
At the back of the property stood an old boathouse.
The key opened its padlock.
Inside, the air smelled of damp wood and gasoline. A rowboat hung from ceiling hooks. Fishing rods leaned against one wall.
Nothing suggested a woman had lived there.
Then Daniel noticed fresh scratches on the floor.
We moved an old workbench.
Beneath it was a steel hatch.
The brass key fit.
Cold air rose from below.
Daniel drew his weapon.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
At the bottom, we found a room.
