First Girl Gone(49)

“He’s bolting. Go!”

Charlie scrambled to find the door handle, and her feet were clumsy beneath her as she stepped onto the asphalt.

She ran for the backyard.





Chapter Thirty-Five





Charlie crashed through the front gate, picking up speed. When she drew near to the house, she veered off the flagstone path and into the snow. The white crusty stuff grabbed at her ankles, tried to slow her, but she bounded through it, picking her knees up higher.

She rounded the first corner to the side of the house. Trudging past the dining room and kitchen windows, Charlie ducked low to avoid being seen by anyone inside. Just as she reached the rear of the house, she spotted movement near the far end of the backyard. A dark figure vaulted the privacy fence and disappeared into a copse of spruce trees.

If she didn’t hurry, she was going to lose him completely. She pushed herself harder, sprinting now. Halfway across the yard, her right foot hit a slippery patch which sent her careening off her intended path. Off-balance, she stumbled a few strides, falling forward more than running. She put her arms out, certain she was going down, but with one final, lurching step, she managed to right herself.

When she drew near the fence, she slowed. It was too tall for her to peer over, and the gaps between the slats were too narrow to see much. As for climbing it, the planks of pale wood were bare on this side, nothing to grip. How the hell had Sharon’s mystery lover gotten over it so quickly?

She gave it a shot anyway, fingers clawing at the smooth surface, trying to find purchase. When that failed, she wrapped her hands around the top edge and hauled herself up just high enough to peek over the other side.

The densely wooded acreage beyond the fence lay dark and motionless. He was gone, and the trees back here had shielded the ground from snow, so he hadn’t left a trail.

Charlie eased herself down to the ground, thinking. She turned back to the house, studying the trellis he must have scampered down. Her gaze followed the wooden structure up to the still open window above.

Sharon Ritter appeared there—a dark silhouette backlit by the glow inside. She cupped a hand over her brow, staring out into the backyard.

Charlie ducked behind a shrub near the fence and froze there.

After a second, Sharon called out in a whispery voice, “Hello?”

Charlie’s heart thudded in her chest. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, but it was difficult after all that running through the snow—it seemed easier to lose your breath in the cold. She closed her eyes, focused only on the air flowing in and out of her.

Finally, she heard the window slide closed.





Chapter Thirty-Six





Cold and dejected, Charlie eased her car door open, still panting for breath. She plopped into the driver’s seat and slid the warm laptop back onto her lap, pressed her frigid fingers against the vents where the heat seeped out of the machine.

She’d missed her chance to identify Mrs. Ritter’s side piece. If she’d gotten out of the car twenty seconds earlier, she might have scored a look at his face. Still, she reminded herself, the tattoo gave her a starting point. She pictured it again—a skull with some swirling shape sprouting out of the bottom of it, almost like a twist of vines. Identifying marks like that could be searched in the databases of most jails and prisons, so she could have Zoe take a look. If he’d ever run afoul of the law, they might have something. She couldn’t help but imagine that the type of guy who climbed a trellis to sneak in and out of a second-story window to commit adultery had, perhaps, little respect for legal matters or rules in general.

As she got her breathing back under control, activity caught her attention on one of the feeds. Sharon flitted through the master bedroom with what looked like her pajamas on. After a second, the lights went out.

“I can imagine ol’ Sharon is downright exhausted,” Allie said. “Dude just plain wore her out.”

Charlie picked up the empty Fresca can and pretended to drink out of it rather than respond. She could just faintly taste some citrus vapor.

“I’m talking about how they did it for like four hours or something,” Allie said. “I mean, it was probably more like forty-five minutes, but that’s like four hours in sex time, especially with the husband just down two sets of stairs. Might even be five hours.”

Charlie’s phone rang, mercifully interrupting Allie’s rant. It rumbled against the smooth plastic of the cup holder, startling both of them. She knew based on the Cops theme song ringtone that it was Zoe.

“Hey.”

“Just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Zoe said. “Since you added the Amber Spadafore case to your load today, it just so happens we’ve got a Spadafore down here.”

Charlie struggled to process this concept, and then the meaning hit all at once.

“Jason?”

“Yep. He got hauled in for causing a ruckus down at O’Malley’s Pub.”

“What kind of ruckus?”

“Broke a pool stick over some dude’s head, apparently,” Zoe said. “The victim’s name is Seth Martin. He’s a local, and before you ask, he’s been out of town the past two weeks on a ski trip.”

“Meaning he couldn’t have been involved with either of the missing girls,” Charlie said.