Riley and Burt followed him into the hall, and the three of them took the stairs at a jog. He headed for the tiny, useless mudroom off the kitchen, where he snagged his keys and a flashlight off the crooked shelf.
“Who broke the window?” he demanded, then shook his head. “Never mind. Keep trying Weber while I drive,” he ordered.
* * *
“He’s still not answering,and neither is Sesame,” Riley said. “She gave me her number while we were shopping in case we got separated in the shoe section.”
“Goddammit,” he muttered.
“Maybe everything is okay? It was probably just a dream. My visions haven’t been very…accurate lately.”
He didn’t answer her. This shouldn’t have been happening again. They’d taken precautions. They were being vigilant. Who in their right mind would break into a cop’s house? Someone with really bad fucking intentions. That was who.
Nick ignored every traffic law and floored the SUV’s accelerator through a red light.
He appreciated that Riley said nothing even as her grip tightened on theoh, shithandle. Burt, too, seemed to understand this was a serious drive and sat stoically in the center of the back seat.
Kellen lived in a personality-less condo building on the other side of the Capitol complex. It usually took a good fifteen minutes to get there in light traffic. Nick made it in seven.
He screeched to a halt in front of the building and looked at Riley. “Stay here.”
“I should come with you. Maybe I can tell you if he’s already in there or not,” she insisted, releasing her seat belt.
“Fuck. Fine. But if you get yourself hurt or shot or worse, I’ll never fucking forgive you, Thorn.”
She jumped out of the SUV before he could change his mind.
Burt whined pathetically from the back seat.
“Burt can wait with me in the hall,” Riley volunteered. “He’ll keep me safe.”
“I’m running a goddamn circus,” Nick muttered under his breath.
He didn’t give her time to argue before he slammed his door and took off for the front door, where he was met with a keypad. Each resident had their own code, and Nick prayed Kellen hadn’t changed his—0617. The date Beth had gone missing.
He plugged it in and was relieved when the door lock buzzed. “Let’s go.”
They made a run for the stairs to the second floor.
Kellen’s door hadn’t been breached, though Riley had said she’d seen the suspect climbing through a window, so it didn’t count as good news.
“What’s the plan?” Riley whispered.
“I don’t know. Let me think.” If he knocked or broke down the door, it could make the assailant panic. But they couldn’t do nothing.
The door across the hall opened, and a grizzled-faced old man scowled out at them. He was dressed in a checkered bath robe and had glasses propped on his head. “It’s a little late for DoorDash, isn’t it?”
“I’m selling Nature Girl cookies for my niece Esmeralda,” Nick said.
“Bullshit. You’re hovering outside a cop’s front door. You ain’t selling cookies. And I’m gonna give you to the count of ten to get facedown on the floor before my finger starts twitching.”
The man pulled a revolver out of his robe pocket.
Nick moved so he was between Riley and the cowboy and put his hands up. “Look, sir. There’s no need to put any holes in anyone. My friend is in trouble behind that door, and I need to get in there.”
“Nick,” Riley whispered, grabbing him by the back of his shirt.
“It’s okay, Thorn,” he said. “I’ve got this under control.”
