Page 68 of Little Girls Sleeping
“Of course. I assume you’re talking about Cisco.” He hesitated. “I’ve put in for K9. I heard that one of the guys is going to retire soon, and I’ve always wanted to work with the unit.”
“Really?” she said, smiling. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“And you call yourself a detective?” McGaven laughed. The slight creasing around his eyes showed his sincerity.
Katie opened the driver’s door and jumped out of the vehicle. McGaven followed, and they both walked toward the house and climbed the steps to the porch.
At the front door, Katie stopped suddenly and froze.
“What? What’s wrong?” McGaven asked, his posture stiffened.
She took a step away from the door, pressing her back against the siding of the house. She didn’t say anything, just nodded toward the handle.
McGaven immediately saw what she meant: the lock and doorknob were broken and the door was slightly ajar.
Katie’s heart dropped. “Cisco,” she whispered. The dog should have been barking or at the window to greet her. Instead there was just a deafening silence she couldn’t let her mind run away with. She fought back the tears and prepared for the worst as she retrieved her weapon.
McGaven followed suit. “We need to call for backup,” he urged in a quiet voice.
Katie shook her head adamantly. “I’m going in now.” Something was terribly wrong and she wasn’t going to hang around for police cars and wailing sirens. If Cisco needed help, she wouldn’t wait another second.
McGaven gave her the stare—it was a police officer gaze that meant “I have your back, no matter what.”
Katie nodded and took the point position. She decided not to go in yelling with guns blazing. Instead, she gently pushed the door. It opened slowly without a sound.
The living room had been turned upside down. Sofa cushions were torn open, with stuffing scattered around the room. Two lamps and some of her knickknacks were shattered into pieces on the floor. Black spray paint marred the walls, covering some of her artwork in long sweeps.
Katie’s first thought was vandals or kids, but there was a more devious element to the trashing of her house. It wasn’t by chance; the termcoincidencewasn’t in any soldier’s or police officer’s vocabulary. Everything had a reason and nothing was happenstance.
They moved cautiously through the living room and into the kitchen in a two-man formation. Katie led, gun targeted in front of her as she cleared areas to the right and McGaven cleared areas to the left just a couple of steps behind her.
She stopped for a moment, straining to hear anything unusual—anything at all. An unnerving quiet greeted her, but she knew it could turn chaotic in an instant. Both of them waited another few seconds before moving on.
Two of the kitchen’s cabinet doors were open, but nothing was tossed or broken. Everything on the counter, including the dishes in the sink, had been left untouched.
Katie eased into the hallway. McGaven worked the rooms on the left and she took the right. Everything was as she had left it. When she came to her old bedroom—her investigation room—she stopped. Her head became light, hands clammy, and she couldn’t speak.
McGaven must have sensed the change, because he quickly moved next to her and stopped.
The warning read:YOU WILL NEVER FIND ME, in the same black spray paint as in the living room.The words were scrawled across parts of her organized investigation but didn’t completely obliterate the lists. The large angular lettering suggested a disturbed individual rather than kids or vandalism. It was personal. It was definite. And it was going to change everything.
“Let’s clear the rest of the property,” ordered McGaven. He pulled at Katie’s arm, making her avert her eyes from the threat. “Now!” he insisted.
Katie managed to blink and direct her attention back to the search. McGaven turned to check on her as he made his way to the sliding doors leading outside.
Cautiously he slid them open. Katie moved through after him and stepped into the backyard, where the large dog run was located. She looked for Cisco but didn’t see him anywhere. Her mind settled into the unthinkable, but she struggled to move forward, to convince herself that she would find him safe.
McGaven kept his back close to the house and continued to clear areas, alert and ready for anything.
Katie did the same on the other side. There was no sign of anyone—or Cisco. Overwhelming grief began to take hold of her. After everything she and Cisco had been through, now a killer was stalking her wanting to take revenge on her dog. This couldn’t be happening.
She returned to the back exit of the house and, leaning against the siding, slid down to the ground. She was done. All her energy rushed out of her.
McGaven joined her at the doors. He was in the middle of a cell-phone call requesting police and backup.
Katie sat on the ground with her head in her hands.
McGaven finished his call. “We don’t know. There’s no evidence that something went bad here.”
