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Amber’s big fearwas that the killer had already struck here; that he hadn’t bothered with thewinch design, merely killed Steven Boon right away. If he’d been the firstvictim, then maybe the killer’s methods hadn’t been fully developed yet.
Amber had to forceherself to focus, knocking on doors one by one.
It took a coupleof doors before anyone even answered, a woman in her forties opening the doorto an apartment across the hall. Her blonde hair was tied back and she waswearing workout clothes, like she was about to head out to the gym. She lookedweary and suspicious, but Amber put on her most reassuring smile and introducedherself.
“Hi, I’m AmberYoung. I’m with the FBI.” She held up her badge for emphasis, because sheimagined that, to a lot of people, she didn’t look like their idea of an FBIagent. “We’re looking for Steven Boon. Have you seen or heard from himrecently?”
“Why? What did hedo?” the woman asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.
That wasinteresting. “Why do you think he’s done something?”
“Well, you know,he’s that quiet type. Especially since he left his old job. Besides, if the FBIcomes knocking, he must have done something.”
Amber wished thatthings worked that simply, given the number of potential suspects she’d lookedat without any effect so far.
“We’re justworried about him,” Amber said. “Have you seen him recently?”
The woman shookher head. “No, sorry. I haven’t seen him in a few days. He keeps to himself, soI didn’t think anything of it. Is he okay?”
“That’s what we’retrying to establish,” Amber said. “Thank you for your time.”
Amber moved on tothe next door. This time, it was a young man who answered, looking slightlynervous as Amber held up her badge. It was obvious that he didn’t like the ideaof talking to the authorities.
“Have you seenSteven Boon?” Amber asked, trying to keep her tone friendly.
“The guy in thirteen?Haven’t seen him for a few days now.”
“Did you hearanything strange or out of the ordinary from his apartment recently?” Amberasked.
The young manshook his head. “No, sorry. I don’t look into other people’s business.”
It seemed thatthey weren’t going to get much more help there. Yet maybe it was enough. Bothof the people Amber talked to had said the same thing, after all. Amber wentback to Simon.
“It doesn’t lookas though anyone has seen him recently,” Amber said. She was starting to worrythat maybe the killer had murdered Boon days ago and no one had noticed. Again,she started to worry that maybe he’d only come up with his twisted game ofhangman after the first murder.
“I’ve got nothing,”Francesca agreed. “No sign of him.”
“And he isn’tanswering his phone,” Simon said. “I have our techs trying to locate his phonenow. They’re going to send the location through as soon as they have it. Wait…this can’t be right.”
“What is it?” Amberasked.
“It says that thephone is right there in front of us. It’s still in his apartment.”
That wasconcerning. If Boon’s phone was still in his apartment, there was a chance thathe was in there too, and if he wasn’t answering, that might mean that he was indanger, hurt, or worse. Amber’s mind raced with the possibilities. She knewthat they had to get inside that apartment and fast. She could feel the tensionbuilding up inside of her, her fingers nervously tapping on her holster.
They approachedthe door again, and Amber knocked on it once more, this time even harder. Theyhad to make sure that Steven Boon hadn’t just failed to hear them the firsttime.
“Mr. Boon, if you’rein there, please open up. We’re worried about you,” she called out.
There was still noanswer, not that Amber had been expecting one.
Now, they weredealing with the possibility that there was a dead or dying man in theapartment. It was a very different situation from one where he simply hadn’tanswered his door. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
Amber looked atSimon, who nodded, took one step back, and then hit the door with his shoulder.The first time he did it, the door held, but the second time, Amber heard thecrunch of the wood as it gave way, the door flying open to let them into theapartment.
The apartment wasdark when they entered. The blinds were closed, shutting out any light fromoutside, but Amber could just about make out shapes in the dimness. She hopedthat one of those shapes wouldn’t prove to be Steven Boon’s dead body.
The apartment wasquiet and still, and Amber started to breathe a sigh of relief as she found alight switch and turned on the lights. There was no sign of the body she’d beendreading to find. In fact, it looked as though the neighbors had been right; itdidn’t look like anyone had been there for at least a few days.
