CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The nondescript house looked exactly as it looked from the images that Parker had sent, though neither the satellite nor property record photos did justice to its disrepair. The gutters sagged. The fence had seen better days. Sawyer wasn’t sure that anyone had lived in the building for years. Then again, the entire neighborhood felt ignored.
He circled the block again. Their newer-model rental car would stand out if anyone was watching too closely.
“What are you looking for?” Angela asked.
Two old work vans had caught his eye. One had darkly tinted windows. The other was overwrapped in worn signage from a plumbing and home repair company. “Anyone looking for us.”
“Do you think this could be a trap?”
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. “It certainly got us here, didn’t it?”
“Parker wouldn’t have sent us into a trap unarmed.”
Although they weren’t entirely unarmed after their quick stop at Wal-Mart, he understood her sentiment. “I don’t need a gun to keep you safe.”
Sawyer parked behind the van with tinted windows. “Stay put a second.”
He exited the rental car and carefully moved to the van for a closer inspection. The doors weren’t locked. A quick peek inside revealed an overflowing ashtray, an old fast-food bag on the passenger floorboard, and not much else. Lookout vehicle, or was it owned by an untidy smoker? He didn’t rule out either possibility. Sawyer opened the discarded fast-food bag. The receipt was paid by credit card and dated three weeks ago.
He returned to Angela’s side of the car, and she rolled the window down. “Anything interesting?”
“I don’t think so.” He glanced at their surroundings. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Sure.”
He led them in the opposite direction from Mylene’s block. After they passed several driveways, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“I want to check out this van—”
A man in a maintenance-style uniform walked from the back of a nearby house.
Sawyer slowed their pace and kept his gaze straight ahead but watched the man proceed toward the plumber’s van, open the rear doors, and rummage through a tool chest.
Another man in a matching uniform appeared from the backyard. “Hey,” he yelled. “Never mind, I found it.”
Sawyer and Angela walked by the plumber, who cursed his lazy, good-for-nothing partner.
They made a left at the end of the block then another until they were back on the same street. She took his hand when they turned toward Mylene’s house.
Sawyer gave her hand a quick squeeze. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Nervous. I don’t know.”
He scanned the area and stopped.
“What—”
After another quick study of their surroundings, Sawyer pulled her to his chest and gave her his full attention. “Do you want to go back to the car?”
“Absolutely not.”
He grinned through a tightness knotted in his chest. Sawyer had only so many more times he could pull her close. Now wasn’t the time or place to kiss Angela, but the rules of engagement were fuzzy when it came to her. He pressed his lips to hers. “We’ll be careful.”
The kiss left her smiling. “I know.”
“There’s no reason to be worried.”
“First, that’s not true.” Her chin rose. “And second, I can be nervous and still want to keep going.”
“ I know .” After all, this was the same woman who slapped her would-be assassin. But Sawyer also knew that Angela’s bravado was a crutch.
She pushed onto her tiptoes and smacked his lips with hers. “I can’t wait anymore. Let’s go.”
He kissed her one more time because what the hell, why not? “Whatever you say.”
They walked to the house next door to Mylene’s, and Sawyer led them up the driveway. Her hand tightened on his.
“I’m just getting a better look,” he explained.
They skirted behind the neighbor’s house and saw Mylene’s window shades were drawn. Carpenter bee holes pocked the fascia board along her roofline. The siding needed a good power washing several years ago. But he didn’t see security cameras or telltale signs of booby traps, trip wires, or incendiary devices. He also noted that nothing on the exterior would keep a person inside who didn’t want to stay.
“Do you think she’s in there?” Angela asked.
“Not sure. Hang tight a second.” Sawyer parked her next to a sun-bleached swing set that hadn’t seen kids in at least a decade. He handed her the keys to the rental car. “If I’m not back in five minutes, get back to the car, and call Parker.”
It didn’t take Sawyer long to walk the perimeter of Mylene’s backyard and get a closer look at the house. He tossed a couple of rocks at the windows. No alarms, and no one came outside.
He returned to Angela. “I don’t see anything that worries me.”
“So we’re going to knock on the door?”
That still seemed like the best plan. His eyebrows lifted. “You game?”
“Of course I’m game.” Her gaze danced over his shoulder. “If she saw you snooping in her yard…”
“Then we’ll find out.”
They returned to the sidewalk and proceeded onto Mylene’s front stoop. Angela raised her hand to knock but froze.
Sawyer touched the small of her back. “Whatever we find out, we’ll deal with.”
She nodded then rapped on the door.
No one answered.
“That’s a bit anticlimactic,” Angela muttered.
“My turn.” Sawyer banged hard enough on the old wood door that it threatened to fall down. “Keys.” She handed him the rental car keys. Sawyer lodged them into the door jamb and opened the front door easily. “Probably could’ve elbowed our way in.”
Cautiously, he called, “Hello?”
No one answered. Angela stepped into the house behind him and shut the door. The house smelled too clean.
“Do you smell bleach?” she asked.
“Yup.” His Spidey senses screamed they had a problem. “Stay close.” He eased farther into the small entryway. “Hello?” he called, knowing no one was home. “Mylene Hathaway?”
“ Holy shit .”
Sawyer turned and saw what Angela had seen. She grasped his hand as they walked into the center of the living room. “Jesus Christ.”
Slowly, they pivoted, taking in the walls. From floor to ceiling, framed pictures of Mylene’s husband and sister covered every inch of space. There were family photos and crime scene photos as well as framed newspaper headlines and articles.
Sawyer pulled out his phone and called Parker. “Yeah, we’ve got a problem.”
“What?”
He didn’t know what to call it.
“Sawyer?”
“Something… wrong happened here.” He didn’t know what else to say. “This might be far beyond my pay grade.”
“Huh?” Parker asked. “Did you find Mylene?”
Angela trembled, pulling away from Sawyer.
“Ange, wait—hey, Parker, I’ll call you back.”
“Send him pictures,” she managed.
Parker asked, “Do you need a clean-up team?”
Sawyer agreed Parker needed to see this as soon as possible. “I don’t know what we need, man. Give me a minute, and I’ll send you some pictures.” He ended the call and followed Angela.
They walked through this madhouse. He tried to understand why the walls were like they were. Every room except for a bathroom, a small bedroom, and the kitchen with a makeshift office area was covered with pictures and headlines related to Mylene’s loved ones. They were even hung on the doors and taped onto the closed window blinds.
“He did this,” Angela’s voice shook. “That bastard did this.”
Sawyer decided a video of each room would be better than photos. But even after he reviewed what he had filmed, nothing could do justice to the insane asylum they were exploring.
“Sawyer, we have to find her.”
Mylene Hathaway needed help. It didn’t matter if she had hung the photos herself or if Pham’s people had papered the house with them. She would need a mental health evaluation and probably years of therapy.