Chapter Three
Alena kept her handgun trained on the shadows of the kitchen while Raines moved in on the bound figure. Her pulse pounded hard in her ears.
If this was a setup, Dexter could be crouched somewhere close, waiting for them to drop their guard. Beside her, Cal mirrored her stance, his gaze sweeping the corners and doorways, but they didn’t see anyone.
“My brother came here looking for money,” Arneson said, his voice rough from the canvas and rope.
Alena’s brows shot up. “I thought you and Dexter were tight. That he could do no wrong in your eyes.”
Arneson’s mouth went tight, a flash of irritation breaking through the bruises on his face. “He’s obviously desperate. He’s being hunted. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
Cal let out a short huff, the sound edged with disbelief. Alena rolled her eyes, lowering her weapon only a fraction but keeping it ready. The excuses were thin, and they both knew it.
“What time did Dexter take these desperate measures and tie you up?” Raines asked, his tone sharp.
There was another flare of irritation, this time all over Arneson’s face. “Three, maybe four hours ago.” He winced as his shoulders shifted against the restraints.
“Did he have Melissa with him?” Cal snapped.
Arneson seemed to do a sort of mental double-take. “No. Why would you think that?” His tone rose, almost indignant. “My brother’s over Melissa. He learned his lesson.”
Raines’s jaw tightened. “She’s missing. So maybe Dexter’s not as over her as you think.”
Arneson’s mouth pulled tight, frustration leaking into his voice.
“If he really did take Melissa, then he’s lost his damn mind.
I tried to talk him into turning himself in.
Told him it was the only way out. He wouldn’t listen.
We struggled, and he overpowered me. Took some cash I had stashed, tied me up, and fled. ”
Alena studied the ropes at his wrists and the way the knots sat. It was possible Dexter had indeed bound him. Just as possible Arneson had done it himself to look like a victim.
Her gaze shifted to Cal. He hadn’t said a word, but the flicker in his eyes told her he was thinking the same thing.
The air between them grew heavier. Trusting anything Arneson said or did felt like stepping onto cracked ice.
Arneson lifted his chin, his voice firm despite the bruises mottling his face. “I wouldn’t help Dexter evade the cops. Not now, not ever.”
The words carried conviction, but Alena’s gut twisted. It could all be an act. Arneson might have already helped his brother slip away and was now spinning a story to cover his tracks.
Raines studied the man for a long beat and then looked to Cal and Alena. “I’ll keep an eye on him. You two clear the rest of the house. Make sure Dexter and Melissa aren’t hiding here.”
Alena moved first, Cal close at her side. They worked down the hallway in silence, weapons raised, senses sharp at every faint sound.
She glanced around the ransacked living room and stepped carefully around broken picture frames, her gaze sweeping the corners before moving on. Room by room. Three bedrooms, three baths, where nothing seemed to be out of place.
Down the hall they reached a home office. Here the scene told its own story. Desk drawers hung open, papers littered the carpet, and a metal cash box lay on its side in the middle of the floor. Its lid was open, empty.
“Makes you wonder if Arneson staged this,” Cal muttered.
She glanced at him, relief sparking that they were on the same page. “I don’t trust him either.”
The air in the office felt charged, as if every corner still held secrets waiting to be forced into the light.
Alena led the way into the laundry room, the scent of detergent faint in the air. Cabinets lined the walls, and a basket of clean clothes sat on top of the dryer, folded neatly as if someone had just finished a chore before everything went wrong.
She pushed through the next door into the garage. A dark SUV sat inside, polished and well-kept, but the empty space beside it caught her eye. Oil stains marked the concrete, and a few tools had been scattered along the wall as if someone had left in a hurry.
“There was probably another vehicle here,” she murmured.
Cal gave a tight nod before leading the way back inside. They returned to the kitchen where Arneson now stood at the island, a wet cloth pressed to his temple. His eyes flicked toward them, then dropped.
“Do you own two vehicles?” Cal demanded.
Arneson hesitated a heartbeat. “Yes. An SUV and a truck.”
“The truck is missing,” Alena informed him.
Arneson muttered a curse under his breath. “Then my brother must have taken it.”
Raines pulled out his phone. “Give me the make, model, and license plate.”
Arneson recited the make and model without hesitation but shook his head. “I don’t know the plate number.”
Raines’s mouth thinned. “I can have one of my deputies get that.” He stepped aside, relayed the information, and within moments an all-points bulletin was in motion.
Blood still seeped slowly from the cut along Arneson’s temple, the wet cloth already stained dark. Raines lowered his phone and said, “I’ve called for the EMTs to check you out, just in case.”
“I don’t need an EMT,” Arneson snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.
“What I need is to find my brother.” His glare shifted from Raines to Cal, then to her, hot and accusing.
“I know you don’t work for Strike Force these days, but Crossfire Ops and Strike Force are cut from the same cloth.
The cops, Strike Force and Crossfire Ops will use this as an excuse to gun him down. ”
Alena’s pulse kicked, but she held his stare, steady and unflinching.
“I know exactly who you are,” Arneson went on, eyes narrowing. “You two helped put Dexter behind bars. He did wrong, I’ll admit that, and he never should’ve taken Melissa. But I can see what’s happening. The police, and you two, you’re gunning for him.”
Cal let out a slow breath, but Alena felt the tension radiating off him. She stepped closer to Arneson.
“Dexter killed someone during his escape,” she stated with as little emotion as she could manage. “His ex is missing. Of course the cops are looking for him. So are we. If you know where he is, tell us. That’s the only way he has a chance of being taken in alive.”
Arneson shook his head, distrust burning in his eyes. “You don’t want him alive. You want him punished for what he did to you.”
Cal shrugged. “Being behind bars for the rest of his miserable, shitty life will be punishment enough.”
Arneson’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a hard line. He gave no verbal response, but his silence spoke volumes.
The creak of the front door swung through the house, followed by quick footsteps on the hardwood floor. Instinct tightened every muscle in Alena’s body. She and Cal drew their weapons at the same instant Raines did, sights locked on the entryway.
A blonde-haired woman appeared in the doorway and froze. Her eyes went wide at the barrels aimed her way, then darted to Arneson’s battered face. She let out a startled gasp, one hand flying to her mouth.
Arneson groaned, his expression twisting. “Oh, hell.” The sound carried both pain and irritation. He clearly wasn’t pleased she was here.
“Who are you?” Raines barked, his weapon steady. His eyes stayed on her hands, waiting for the slightest twitch that might signal a weapon.
The woman swallowed hard, glancing from one gun to the next. “Kara,” she stammered. “Kara Whitfield.”
No one lowered their weapons. Not yet. She could still be armed.
Arneson’s lip curled as he snarled, “Kara has been visiting Dexter in prison. She’s got this warped notion he’s in love with her.”
Kara straightened, her chin trembling but her voice defiant. “He is in love with me.”
“Then why did he take Melissa?” Arneson shot back.
Kara’s eyes widened, stunned. “He wouldn’t do that. Melissa must have heard about the breakout. She’s probably hiding so she can try to set Dexter up.”
The woman’s denial rang with conviction, but it also reeked of blind devotion. Hell. Was Kara helping Dexter?
“If Dexter loves you so much, why didn’t he come to you instead of showing up here?” Cal threw out there.
Kara hesitated, her lips parting, her eyes flicking nervously from Cal to Alena. “Maybe… maybe he didn’t want to get me involved with the cops.”
Arneson gave a bitter laugh that held no humor. He turned his bruised face toward them. “Dexter didn’t go to her because he knows Kara is obsessed with him.”
The air between them crackled with hostility, Kara glaring at Arneson as if his words had cut straight through her chest.
Raines broke the tense moment, his voice hard. “I need to check you for weapons,” he told Kara.
She gave him a brief wide-eyed stare, but then she lifted her hands in reluctant surrender. “Fine. Go ahead. But tell me where Dexter is. Is he hurt? Did the cops already shoot at him? What happened?” Her questions came fast, spilling over one another, desperate and raw.
Raines moved in to search her, every motion controlled and deliberate.
Alena kept her weapon ready, watching Kara’s eyes and hands, looking for any flicker of deceit.
All she saw were nerves. But maybe that’s exactly what the woman wanted her to see.
Nerves, worry, fear. All of which could be an act if she was helping Dexter.
If so, then why was Kara here?
Maybe to throw suspicion off herself? Or maybe just to find out what they knew about Dexter and his escape?
Either was possible. But it was also possible that Kara was just what Arneson had said she was. Obsessed with his brother. Alena didn’t get that kind of pull, but she knew that some people did. A sick kind of fascination with criminals.