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“Why does the FBIwant to talk to Jack?”
“It’s inconnection with a case,” Amber said. She didn’t want to give away too much, evennow. “Who are you?”
“I’m Garret, Jack’sboss,” the man said.
“Well, Garret,”Amber said, “is Jack here?”
They needed tofind him. For all Amber knew, Jack Morrison might be trying to make his escape throughthe back of the garage even now. Amber found herself looking around for anysign of him.
She didn’t seehim, but shedidsee a roll of cable, which to Amber looked exactly thesame as the ones used in the murders, lying in a corner of the garage. Herheart raced as she approached it, picking it up and examining it closely.
This was it. Thiswas the evidence they needed.
“Simon,” she said,holding up the cable. “Look at this.”
“What?” Garretasked. “It’s just cable. Lots of places have it.”
That might betrue, it might not definitively prove that Morrison was the killer, but itstill made Amber want to find Jack Morrison even more. If he wasn’t at thegarage, then they needed to try his home address.
Amber and Simonleft the garage, getting back into their car and heading to Morrison’s house.Amber called Francesca as they headed over.
“Did you have anyluck getting the warrant?” Amber asked her.
“I’m heading tothe house with it now,” the detective assured her. “I was going to call you.”
“We’ll meet you there,”Amber said.
They kept driving.When they arrived, they saw that the house was a small bungalow with a neatlykept garden. The curtains were drawn, and there was no sign of anyone inside.Francesca was waiting outside.
“He wasn’t at thegarage,” Simon said as they got out of the car.
“You got herequickly,” Francesca said. “Rushing to see me?”
Were they stillflirting? To Amber, it seemed less than professional. They had a killer tocatch.
“And also to tryto find a murderer,” Simon said. Simon knocked on the door, but there was noanswer. “The warrant allows us to force entry?”
Francesca nodded.
“Then we need toget inside.”
He stepped back,then kicked the door hard. The lock broke open. As they stepped inside, theyquickly surveyed the living room. It was neat, tidy, and sparsely decorated.The only personal touch was a family photo on the mantelpiece, showing a manwho had to be Jack Morrison standing with two people who likely were his wifeand daughter.
Morrison was alarge man in his late thirties, bearded and shaven headed. He was muscular andtattooed, but in the photograph it looked as though he’d made a concertedeffort to clean himself up. He was smiling in the photograph.
Amber went towork, searching the place for anything that might connect Morrison to thewinches. Simon and Francesca kept watch, their hands close to their weapons. IfMorrison was anywhere around here, they needed to be ready for anything.
But there was nosign of him. The only thing they found was a note on the kitchen counter,scrawled in a shaky hand.
“I’m sorry,” thenote read. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Was that aconfession, an apology, something else? Whatever it was, one thing was certain:
“He’s not here,”Amber said. “We need to find him.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Amber stood in themiddle of Jack Morrison’s home, trying to work out how to find him before itwas too late.
