The garage was cold and dark. I flipped on a light, revealing… nothing. Just a typical garage with storage shelves, a cluttered work bench, and a midsize SUV parked on one side. The other space had a car covered by a canvas cloth. I crept in and tried the door leading into the house, but it was locked.
Since there weren’t any other places to look, I left and jogged back to the front of the house. Feeling increasingly frantic, I looked in the windows. Something was wrong. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was absolutely certain.
Was it possible I was freaking out over nothing? Yeah. Did I care? Nope. I was going to find Penelope by any means necessary.
Even if it meant Garrett wound up arresting me.
I didn’t have anything on me to pick a door lock, so I decided to try the windows. Several were within reach, but were solid glass—not the kind that opened. One of the side windows looked like it would open, but it wouldn’t budge.
Breaking the glass was not a good option, especially because I didn’t know if Pen was actually inside. But I had to get in. She was in trouble. I went to the front of the house and looked up. The second-story windows were closed, but if I could climb onto the porch roof, I could reach them. Maybe I’d be able to get one open.
Using the railing, I hoisted myself up and grabbed the gutter, hoping I didn’t rip it off the edge. It took my weight as I pulled myself up and over, and I scrambled onto the roof.
The pitch was shallow, making it easy to stand. Ignoring the sound of a car driving by—nothing to see here, just a guy on a roof in the dark—I checked the front windows. Locked.
Careful not to slip, I made my way around to the side of the house. There was one window, leading into a dark room. I tried to lift it, and it moved. Not much, but if I could get it to slip a little more, I’d be able to get my fingers underneath.
Gritting my teeth, I splayed my hands against the cold glass and pushed upward. It opened a centimeter or two—just enough that I knew I had to keep trying.
“Come on, you bastard.”
Finally, I opened it enough to wedge my hands in the gap. It still stuck, but with a stronger grip, I managed to create enough space to get in.
I squeezed through and stood. The dark room looked like it was used for storage. There were easels, canvases, empty picture frames, and plastic totes stacked on shelves. I crept across the room, careful not to trip or knock anything over, and eased open the door. It led into an equally dark hallway.
Fuck, this was crazy. I hoped Gina Morris wasn’t big on firearms for home defense.
“Hello?” I called. “Sorry for breaking in. I’m looking for Penelope Fallbrook. Pen, are you here?”
Silence.
With a deep breath, I started down the hallway, checking rooms. A closet. A bedroom that appeared to be partially packed, and another that was empty. A large bathroom. A master bedroom that was obviously lived in, but no sign of Gina. Or Penelope.
I hurried down the stairs, calling for Penelope again. There were boxes and disassembled furniture, even dishes in the sink. But no Gina Morris, and definitely no Penelope.
There was one last door I hadn’t tried. Easing it open, I peered into the dark room.
“Pen? Are you in here?”
I flipped on the light. Nothing. Just an empty room. “Fuck.”
My phone rang and I almost fumbled it trying to see who was calling. Garrett.
“I can’t find Penelope and I think something’s wrong,” I said, not bothering with bullshit like hello.
“Okay, slow down,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm. “What’s going on?”
“Penelope. She went to the Morrises’ gallery for some reason, and no one’s seen her since. And I think Gina Morris was trying to stalk her. Something’s wrong. She’s in trouble.”
“Where are you?”
I hesitated, glancing around, and decided fuck it. “Gina Morris’s kitchen. I broke in. Penelope isn’t here.”
“You broke in…” He trailed off. “Fuck, Theo. Okay, we’ll deal with that later. Where did you last see her?”
I headed for the front door. She wasn’t there, so no reason to stay. “School. She met Melanie at the Steaming Mug after work. I already talked to Mel. She figured Pen was going home after that, but Pen left me a voicemail saying she was stopping by the gallery first.”
“And that’s the last time you heard from her?”
