spotted a piece of paper sticking out of the top drawer and pulled on it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A name. Tony Swift.”
“I know him,” Jade said. “He owns the shooting range where a bunch of cops practice when they don’t want to use the one at the station.”
“Maybe he was meeting someone there.”
“Maybe.” They continued the search and made it full circle back to the front door with no other information they could deem useful in the search for their friend, but Bryce was hopeful Tony Swift could answer a few questions.
“The place is spotless as always. Doesn’t look like there’s anything to be worried about,” Bryce said.
“Other than the fact that it’s the middle of the night, his car is here, but he’s not home or answering his phone.”
“He could be asleep in a hotel with his phone turned off.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. I was just hoping...” He paused. “Let me check his closet. Maybe he had a last-minute trip and he just didn’t bother telling anyone.” He didn’t believe that, but...
Back in Frank’s bedroom, Bryce opened the closet door and hope dissipated. Jade stood at the entrance to the room, her expression anxious. “Suitcases are here,” he said. He riffled through the hanging clothes. “And his jersey’s missing.” The bad feeling he’d had earlier when Jade had pulled the shirt from the dirt returned full force.
“Could be in a drawer,” she said.
Bryce shook his head. “He hangs it. At least, he used to hang his jerseys. He wouldn’t change his habits now.”
“He could have—”
“No, he couldn’t have. He hangs it up. You remember in high school, he had those two jerseys? He always hung them up. He wouldn’t do anything different now.”
She drew in a deep breath, obviously looking for her patience. “I was going to say, he could have worn it and tossed it in the dirty clothes basket.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have. Bryce stepped into the en suite bathroom. The empty hamper mocked him. He checked every drawer and under the sink. “It’s not there. Washer and dryer are empty, too.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m out of ideas, then.” Her eyes met his. “I’m scared, Bryce.”
“Ping his phone.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.” She put the call in to dispatch and asked for the information.
Then hit the speaker button.
Bryce waited, impatience clawing at him. Finally, the operator came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Jade, I can’t get a signal on the phone. It’s either turned off or the battery’s dead.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you trying for me.” She hung up and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I really don’t like this.”
“Me either. Let’s go wake Heather.”
Heather opened the door on the third knock, her bleary blue eyes blinking rapidly. Jade noticed she held her service weapon in her right hand. “Jade?”
“Hi, Heather,” Bryce said.
“Bryce? Bryce Kingsley?” Heather launched herself into Bryce’s arms and hugged him. He returned the hug until Heather leaned back and cupped his face. “Wow, is that really you?”
“It’s me.”
“Frank said he’d been talking to you and that you were coming home to open a PI business.”
“Yeah. At some point.”
“Well...um...it’s good to see you.”
Heather gave him one more hug, then motioned them inside. Jade swallowed as Bryce shut the door behind him. She didn’t want to admit she was a little jealous of Heather’s enthusiastic greeting. She’d wanted to do the very same thing when she’d first seen Bryce in the mill. Throw herself against him and hug him, run her hands over his features and reassure herself that he was real. But she hadn’t. The fact that she’d wanted to scared her silly. Bryce had walked out of her life and she’d managed to survive. The fact that he was back in it didn’t mean anything had to change.
You’re lying to yourself. Everything’s going to change.
It was just a matter of when. But there wasn’t a thing she could do about it right now.
Heather set her gun on the counter just inside the door to the kitchen that was next to the small foyer, where they now stood a bit awkwardly. “What are you guys doing? It’s the middle of the night.” Her eyes sharpened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“We hope nothing,” Jade said. “Let’s go into the den and we’ll explain.”
“No,” Heather said. Jade froze at the sharpness and Heather held up a hand. “Sorry. Can we go in the kitchen, please? I’ve torn up the floor in there to start fixing the place up to put it on the market. Frank and I don’t need two places. And besides, I’m thirsty.”
The three of them took a seat at the kitchen table while Heather retrieved water bottles from the refrigerator.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she said, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig from the bottle.
Jade explained about the attack at the old mill and finding the jersey with the autograph on the left shoulder. “It has to be Frank’s,” she said. “Do you know where he is?”
“Well, before you asked, I would have assumed he was home in bed. Obviously he’s not.” She rubbed her eyes, a slow fear building in them. “What are you not telling me? Is he okay?”
“We’re not sure,” Jade said. She should have known better than to try to leave out details. “That jersey we found at the mill? It...ah...it had two bullet holes in the front and is covered with dried blood.”
“What?” Heather paled. “His Panthers jersey?”
“Yes.”
“But...no. It can’t be his.” A short, humorless laugh escaped her. “I mean, he just wore it the other day.” She snagged her phone from her robe pocket and tapped the screen. From her seat, Jade heard it go straight to voice mail. “Frank, this is Heather. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I don’t care. Call me as soon as you get this message.” She hung up and tried four more times before she finally set the phone on the table and clasped her hands in front of her. Her gaze bounced between Jade and Bryce. “There’s got to be some explanation.” She stood. “I’ll get dressed and head to his house.”
“We’ve already been there,” Bryce said, and Heather froze. “I’m sorry, Heather, but he’s not there.”
“But his car is,” Jade said. “I know that when he flies, he sometimes takes a car service, but I don’t recall him saying anything about taking a trip anytime soon—outside of your honeymoon.”
Heather shook her head. “No trips scheduled. At least, none that I know of. Every so often he takes off and calls me from the road if it’s a last-minute thing with the paper, but—” She checked her phone. “Nothing but your missed calls. He’s got to be here in town somewhere.” She raised her brows. “Or he went to see Lisa.” His sister lived an hour away in Charlotte. As soon as the words left her mouth, she was shaking her head. “But he would have taken his car, so that can’t be. And he would have left me