She felt her face heat and lowered her hand. “You said earlier that you thought he might live in one of the houses in Bentwater Place, near the one we went through to that delivery truck. Did anything ever come of that?”
“The police ruled that out. He definitely isn’t one of the homeowners on that street or the neighboring streets. But one of those homes was vacant because it’s for sale. He could have seen that for sale sign and broke in to conduct quick surveillance on the house next door. Once he was sure the owners weren’t home, he used that house as part of his plan to abduct you.”
Dalton tapped on the table as if in deep thought. “How close is that path to the Bentwater subdivision?”
Bryson looked at Teagan in question. “What do you think? Half a mile? The Woods is huge. That path is in the center of the subdivision.”
She nodded. “Maybe even a mile, or more really if you consider all the twists and turns you’d have to take because of all the streets in between.”
“He didn’t walk from Bentwater to the path,” Bryson concluded. “It’s too far. There would have been multiple reports in the interviews that the police conducted after your abduction, reports of different people seeing a man walking toward that trail. There weren’t any reports. None.”
“Then how did he get in?” she asked.
He sat back, considering the question. “Getting back to basics, we have two choices. He walked or drove. Since no mysterious strangers were seen on the cameras at the guard shack, driving is out. But since he wasn’t seen walking through the subdivision by anyone interviewed after your abduction, walking is out too. Which leads to one conclusion. The time frame that the police covered when canvassing the neighborhood was inadequate.”
A few chairs over from him, Dalton nodded. “That’s the only explanation. He was already in place. He went into the subdivision before the time range that the police checked.” He turned toward the former police officer. “Brielle, I think you had that report on the video from the guard shack. How far back did they check?”
She was already typing. Then she punched a button and a report popped up on one of the big screens. “One week. Our killer had to be in place prior to that.” She turned her focus on Teagan. “I haven’t been in that development. But from what I’ve read, there aren’t any actual woods where someone could hide out that long and not be found, are there?”
Teagan shook her head. “No. I mean, there are plenty of areas with lots of trees and bushes. But it’s all personal property, or it backs up behind a strip mall on one side. The community areas are too heavily traveled, like those walking paths, to allow someone to camp out and not be seen.”
“I agree,” Bryson said. “And it goes back to the sheer volume of witnesses in that area. Even if he camped out, someone would have seen him at some point and reported it. Nothing like that happened. Which means he was in one of the houses. We already know he’s not one of the owners, based on the extensive reports the police did on every homeowner. If he was visiting someone who lives there, again, they would have mentioned it to the police. That leaves one last possibility. He was using someone’s house when they were out of town. We need a list of everyone who was out of town over a week before the attack.”
“On it.” Brielle started typing on her computer again. “I’ve got all of those types of records already from our earlier canvassing but didn’t put it together the way you just did. I just need to cross-reference a couple of spreadsheets and I’ll have it.”
A few minutes later, the dejection on her face told the story even before she spoke. “Sorry, guys and gals. As impossible as it seems in a place with that many houses, no one was on vacation in that time span. At least, no one who didn’t have a house sitter or friend at their place while they were gone.”
Bryson sat forward in his chair. “Then the house was empty. Whoever owned it didn’t live there anymore. How many homes were vacant, either for rent or for sale during that time frame?”
The tension was palpable in the room as they waited for Brielle once again.
She popped up the latest search results. “Three. All for sale, all vacant.”
“Bentwater Place, the house that was empty and for sale that the police thought our killer might have used as his home base with the Broderick murders,” Bryson said. “Does anyone have any additional information on that house?”
“Like what?” Dalton asked.
“The realty company. Better yet, the Realtor who listed it.”
Dalton smiled. “Of course. On it.”
“I’m on it too, for the ones in The Woods,” Brielle said.
A few moments later, Dalton sat back. “Pine Acres Realty.”
“Dang, I almost beat you,” Brielle said. “I’m calling it a tie. Two of mine are with Happy Meadows Properties.” She rolled her eyes at the name. “My last one, which happens to back up directly onto the path where Ms. Ray was attacked, is Pine Acres Realty.”
Teagan blinked in shock. “He’s a Realtor?”
“It appears likely,” Bryson said. “And he probably works for Pine Acres Realty. We need pictures.”
Bishop, who’d been quietly working on his own computer all along, punched a button. The screens filled with pictures of the smiling men and women who worked for that realty company.
Bryson arched a brow. “Thanks, Bishop.”
Bishop nodded.
“Bottom row.” Teagan’s voice was hoarse. “If the screen wasn’t so huge, I wouldn’t have even noticed. And now I know why no one in the neighborhood recognized the police sketch.”
