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She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. “Although something can be said about timing, I think we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement.” She held a finger up. “Hold that thought.”
He caught the finger. “I’m holding it. Now, go get ’em. I’ve got your six.”
She spun and jogged toward the Waters’ house. Cliff kept pace close behind her.
They swung wide to approach from the side, out of range of the huge picture windows that were all dark. No lights shone in the front rooms or in any of the second-story windows on the front of the house.
Jenna rounded to the back of the house. A light shone through a window from what appeared to be the kitchen. Another light glowed in a second-story window above.
Jenna tiptoed up the steps of a wide, wraparound porch and approached the door to the kitchen. She pulled the gun from her holster with one hand, reached for the doorknob with the other and twisted it gently.
Expecting it to be locked, she was surprised when the knob turned easily in her hand. She pushed open the door and peered inside.
The large kitchen, with its huge gas stove, smooth quartz countertops and a commercial-size refrigerator, was a gourmet cook’s dream. For the most part, it was neat and clean, except for the drawer hanging with a collection of knives scattered across the counter.
Jenna rounded a large island on one end while Cliff came around the other side and tripped, nearly landing on his face.
The obstacle that had nearly sent him sailing moved and moaned.
Jenna shone a flashlight toward the floor.
Holy hell, it was a man lying against the cabinet doors, his wrists and ankles secured with zip ties and a strip of duct tape sealing his mouth shut. A dark bruise swelled above his temple.
Cliff dropped to his haunches and pulled the tape from the man’s mouth.
Jenna knelt beside the man. “Mr. Waters, are you all right? Who did this to you?”
“I think so,” he said. “Get me out of this.”
Cliff pulled a Swiss army knife from his pocket and sliced through the zip ties.
Waters pushed himself up into a sitting position, rolled onto his knees and staggered to his feet. “I have to go.”
“Mr. Waters,” Jenna said. “Where’s your wife? Where’s Trudy?”
Waters looked from Cliff to Jenna, his eyes widening. “Don’t hurt her,” he said. “Please, don’t hurt her. She’s been hurt enough.”
“Where’s your wife?” Jenna softened her tone. “We just want to talk to her.”
He shook his head. “I tried to stop her. I tried to end the madness, but she wouldn’t listen.” His shoulders sagged, making him appear ten years older than he was. “She wouldn’t listen. When I told her I had to fix this, she screamed at me and hit me with the cast iron skillet. I don’t remember much after that until you two walked in.”
“Mr. Waters, does your wife have my sister’s baby?” Jenna asked.
The older man winced. “She hasn’t been right since the death of our son, Liam. She’s so sad and angry. There’s no consoling her. She’s always been so kind and gentle. But lately…”
“Look at me.” Cliff stepped up to the man, gripped his arms and forced him to look up. “Where is your wife?” he demanded in a clear, crisp tone.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Probably in the nursery.”
“Where?”
“Second floor, first door on the left.”
Before Cliff could stop her, Jenna raced out of the kitchen.
“Mr. Waters,” Cliff said, “I want you to call 911 and ask them to send an ambulance. Can you do that?”
The man nodded, his eyes glazed, his hands shaking. “I can. I will.”
