Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(87)

Patrol Officer Carl Ripton greeted her. Rain poured off the brim of his campaign hat.

“Where’s Lance?” Stella looked over his shoulder at the small group of officers behind him.

“Quit.”

“What?”

“He walked into the chief’s office and quit.” Carl checked his weapon.

“Damn.” Even though she knew Lance had been having trouble adjusting to his return to work, she’d never expected him to quit when she needed him. He had the case in his head. With him gone and Brody wounded, that left Stella and Horner.

“Yeah. Bad timing.” Carl waved toward the house. “Shall we?”

She breathed and scanned the surroundings. The house sat on the right, with a large barn and several smaller outbuildings scattered around the yard. Junk, including the carcass of a rusting convertible and a rotted mattress, dotted the weedy grounds.

“More of a junkyard than a farm,” she said.

Carl tugged the brim of his hat lower. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Nerves dried her mouth, and when she swallowed, it felt like burrs moving down her throat.

They crossed the yard. Her SFPD cap shielded her eyes from the downpour as she crept up the wooden porch steps. They approached the front door, the buzz of adrenaline deafening. The house was two stories of peeling white paint. She glanced at Carl. His hand was poised next to his weapon as he motioned two uniforms around the house to cover the rear exit in case anyone inside decided to bolt. The situation was eerily like the one in November. And with the shooting of Brody so fresh, visions of Brody and Lance, bleeding and pale, flashed through Stella’s mind.

She shook the images away. Lance and Brody were both alive. No uniformed chaplains had visited their loved ones.

“Stella?” Carl stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “You were just in a shooting this afternoon. Are you all right?”

She wouldn’t be sidelined in the search for Gianna. “I’m fine.”

Stella shook off the mental slide show. No one was going to get shot tonight. They weren’t going to be surprised.

Carl took one side of the doorway. Stella stood on the other. The third uniform crouched behind them. She wiped water from her forehead and knocked on the door. No one answered. She rapped again. “Mr. O’Neil? This is the police. We have a warrant.”

The only answer was the sound of rain beating on the porch roof.

Stella gave knocking one more try. “Mr. O’Neil, open the door.”

Next to her, Carl drew his weapon.

Stella shielded her eyes and tried to peer through the glass panes in the door. “I can’t see much. It’s dark in there.”

Carl walked to the end of the porch and looked in another window. “Same here.”

“Are you ready?” Stella asked.

Carl nodded. The uniform brought the battering ram and swung the heavy black rod by the handles. It hit the door next to the lock. The door burst in. Carl and Stella led the entry. The uniforms followed. They swept the house, clearing each room floor by floor. When the entire house was declared empty, they met on the front porch again.

“There’s a vehicle parked in front of the barn. Let’s check it out.” Stella moved off the porch. Their warrant included outbuildings. The rain beat on her shoulders and dripped down the back of her neck as she skirted a mud puddle. The barn doors were closed. The windows were high and boarded over. The two uniforms jogged across the yard.

Stella sniffed. Over the wash of rain, a faint but caustic odor lingered.

“Doesn’t smell like a body. Smells like cat piss.” One of the uniforms wiped his face.

Stella scanned the front of the building. High windows were covered with plywood. “Can you boost me up to the window? Maybe I can see through those boards.”

“Careful,” Carl warned as he moved under the opening.

But they both knew going in blind was dangerous. It was better to know what they were facing than to rush in.

Stella put a hand on his shoulder and stepped into his locked fingers. He boosted her a few feet into the air. She grabbed the sill and got a toehold on a loose board. She put her eye to the space between the boards. A distinct odor wafted through the tiny slit. She recognized the smell with one sniff. Ammonia.

“Can you see anyone?” Carl asked.

“Give me a minute.” She squinted into the dim, but all she could see was piles of junk and shadows. “It’s too dark inside.”

“I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand to help her down, then scanned the front of the barn.

“Can you see anything between the board over the other window?” Stella gestured to the other side of the door.

“Let’s just open the damned door.” Carl reached for the long, metal handle on the sliding door. “There’s probably nothing inside but fertilizer and old junk.” He pointed to the rusted hinges of the barn door. “This barn doesn’t see much action.”

His fingers closed around the handle.

Turning, Stella saw a thin metal wire running along the doorframe.

“Don’t!” Stella shouted.

But it was too late. He was already pulling.

“Get down!” Stella dove at him, looping an arm over his chest and taking him to the ground with her just as the front of the barn exploded.