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Seeing all the drug paraphernalia scattered on the coffee table, he regretted that he didn’t treat Kyra better. He was so afraid of giving mixed signals, he forgot how to be a friend. If he’d tried to be a friend then maybe he would have recognized that she wasn’t acting like herself.
The Reaper wouldn’t have gotten to Kyra.
Even without hard evidence, Matt was operating under the assumption that The Reaper was behindGrace’s abduction, and he’d orchestrated the whole scheme starting with manipulating Kyra through to Cristiano’s ambush.
If Kyra hadn’t been murdered, Matt would never have been taken into custody, and he could have protected his wife. Grace would still be here.
Or would she though?
Did things happen for a reason? Would he have been killed, too, by Cristiano’s sneak attack?
“How long did they say she’s been dead?” Matt asked, staring at the chalk outline on the carpet.
“Forty-eight hours,” Briggs replied.
“No fingerprint results yet?” Millie asked, rounding back to them after inspecting the kitchen.
“No. They found the body yesterday afternoon from an anonymous tip. She had strangulation marks on her neck and needle marks on both arms. They have not established cause of death,” the deputy replied. Matt was thankful to Frank Briggs for getting him out of the detention cell. All assault charges had been dropped given the extenuating circumstances or some macho bullshit they didn’t want publicized because it had been eight deputies against Matt. But nothing was for free, and he was sure there’d be some free vehicle repair work coming his way since he’d beaten the shit out of six of them.
Briggs had to cut his camping trip short because the deputy-in-charge didn’t know what to do what with having the sheriff’s brother-in-law arrested. Not to mention what appeared to be another biker war erupting in front of Matt’s garage. He’d worry about the repercussions later.
His first objective was to find Grace.
“One of the investigators mentioned that Kyra was driving a car other than her own. A blue Toyota Corolla,” Briggs said. “I’m having someone look into stolen and rented vehicles in the past month.”
“You might have to go back further than that,” Matt said. “Back to the day of the airport bombing almost six weeks ago.”
Cassie came down from the second floor. “This doesn’t make sense. I don’t see evidence that Kyra had stayed here for a while. The bed looks slept in, but the trashcan in the bathroom is empty, and there are water lines in the toilet bowl.”
“Kyra’s OCD about her bathroom and kitchen is legendary,” Millie said, walking to the fridge and opening the door. “All the food that looks like it can crawl in there? Not her style.”
“Drugs can change a person,” Briggs shrugged.
“But even so, that’s not Kyra,” Cassie said. “She wouldn’t resort to drugs because she’s hung up on a guy.” His sister glared at him.
“When will the toxicology report come back?” Matt asked.
“This afternoon—I expedited it,” Briggs replied. “We should be hearing about the exact cause of death later this evening.”
“Trent’s coming back this afternoon,” Cassie said. “Colt and Lucas too. They’re not attending the Homeland Security dinner and heading straight home.”
Matt nodded. “I think we should go door to door and ask if the neighbors have seen anything.”
“Now, Foster, I can’t have you doing that,” Briggs said. “If anyone finds out I let you guys in here, I’d get into a lot of trouble.”
“It’s been eight hours, Frank,” Matt said tersely. “Every hour we don’t find her, is another hour she could be getting tortured.” Or worse. Even as he tried to block out the thoughts of that madman violating Grace’s body, he couldn’t. It had been at the forefront of his mind, and he’d been a powder keg with a short fuse since he’d found out she’d been taken.
“Go back to the garage, Foster,” Briggs advised. “Let my men do their jobs. Axe and the rest of your men need you there. You lost one of your own.”
“You think Roger would want me to sit on my ass and not look for Grace?” Matt snapped. “You’re forgetting who we are.”
“Matt,” Millie broke in gently. “Let’s go back to Misty Grove and gather all the help we need. Grace is one of our own, and we’re not abandoning her.”
“Shit,” Briggs muttered, looking at Cassie. “Your husband better come back soon. I’m too old for this shit. Keeping your town out of trouble is his problem now.”
“I’m going to close the diner and we’ll establish home base there,” Millie said. “Frank, do you know if your CSI techs are done processing the scene of Cristiano’s ambush by The Reaper?”
“Suspected ambush by The Reaper,” Briggs corrected.
