CHAPTER 21
Wyatt grippedhis steering wheel more tightly than necessary as he drove to Daisy Ruiz’s place.
He couldn’t believe Kori had gone to meet the woman without mentioning it. Then again—maybe he could. She was used to doing things her way. And it wasn’t like she had to ask him for permission.
Still, it just didn’t seem smart, given everything that had happened.
He’d found Daisy’s address and had texted it to Kori. She was meeting him here.
He pulled to a stop in a small lot by her building. Kori’s car was already there, and he saw her silhouette inside.
“At least she didn’t go confront Daisy without me.” He looked at Thunder. “Right, boy?”
Thunder panted in response.
Daisy lived in the left unit of a converted Victorian on Birch Street. Judging by the mismatched exterior paint and the separate entrance on the side, the two-story house had been divided sometime in the last decade. A light glowed behind the curtains on the ground floor.
Someone was home.
He climbed out, and Kori met him near the door.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” she started. “I . . . I didn’t know if she had anything of value to share. I figured I’d wait to find out first.”
“You’re welcome to talk to anyone you want. I just want you to be careful. We have enough disturbing things happening here right now. I don’t want to add any more missing persons to the list.”
“Understood.”
Wyatt put his hand out as they approached the entrance, an instinctive gesture that put him a half step ahead of Kori.
Wyatt knocked. “Ms. Ruiz, this is Wyatt King. I’m with the park service, and I’m here with Kori Hutchins. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Silence.
He waited before knocking again. “Ms. Ruiz.”
Nothing moved inside.
He tried the handle.
Surprisingly, the door was unlocked.
He pushed it open and stepped inside.
His eyes quickly moved through the space before he let himself take in the details. He scanned the small living area, the kitchenette to the left, and the hallway leading to what was probably a bedroom.
He saw no immediate threats.
He registered the details next.
A duffel bag on the couch, a stack of folded clothes beside it. A jacket thrown over the arm. Keys on the cushion next to the jacket, left as if someone was ready to grab them on the way out the door.
A woman stepped out from a doorway in the hallway and froze. She pressed a handful of toiletries to her chest.
That had to be Daisy Ruiz.
She looked terrified.
“I’m sorry to walk in,” Wyatt said, his voice calm and even. “The door was unlocked.”
