Arneson lifted his chin, his voice firm despite the bruises mottling his face. “I wouldn’t help Dexter evade the cops. Not now, not ever.”
The words carried conviction, but Alena’s gut twisted. It could all be an act. Arneson might have already helped his brother slip away and was now spinning a story to cover his tracks.
Raines studied the man for a long beat and then looked to Cal and Alena. “I’ll keep an eye on him. You two clear the rest of the house. Make sure Dexter and Melissa aren’t hiding here.”
Alena moved first, Cal close at her side. They worked down the hallway in silence, weapons raised, senses sharp at every faint sound.
She glanced around the ransacked living room and stepped carefully around broken picture frames, her gaze sweeping thecorners before moving on. Room by room. Three bedrooms, three baths, where nothing seemed to be out of place.
Down the hall they reached a home office. Here the scene told its own story. Desk drawers hung open, papers littered the carpet, and a metal cash box lay on its side in the middle of the floor. Its lid was open, empty.
“Makes you wonder if Arneson staged this,” Cal muttered.
She glanced at him, relief sparking that they were on the same page. “I don’t trust him either.”
The air in the office felt charged, as if every corner still held secrets waiting to be forced into the light.
Alena led the way into the laundry room, the scent of detergent faint in the air. Cabinets lined the walls, and a basket of clean clothes sat on top of the dryer, folded neatly as if someone had just finished a chore before everything went wrong.
She pushed through the next door into the garage. A dark SUV sat inside, polished and well-kept, but the empty space beside it caught her eye. Oil stains marked the concrete, and a few tools had been scattered along the wall as if someone had left in a hurry.
“There was probably another vehicle here,” she murmured.
Cal gave a tight nod before leading the way back inside. They returned to the kitchen where Arneson now stood at the island, a wet cloth pressed to his temple. His eyes flicked toward them, then dropped.
“Do you own two vehicles?” Cal demanded.
Arneson hesitated a heartbeat. “Yes. An SUV and a truck.”
“The truck is missing,” Alena informed him.
Arneson muttered a curse under his breath. “Then my brother must have taken it.”
Raines pulled out his phone. “Give me the make, model, and license plate.”
Arneson recited the make and model without hesitation but shook his head. “I don’t know the plate number.”
Raines’s mouth thinned. “I can have one of my deputies get that.” He stepped aside, relayed the information, and within moments an all-points bulletin was in motion.
Blood still seeped slowly from the cut along Arneson’s temple, the wet cloth already stained dark. Raines lowered his phone and said, “I’ve called for the EMTs to check you out, just in case.”
“I don’t need an EMT,” Arneson snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. “What I need is to find my brother.” His glare shifted from Raines to Cal, then to her, hot and accusing. “I know you don’t work for Strike Force these days, but Crossfire Ops and Strike Force are cut from the same cloth. The cops, Strike Force and Crossfire Ops will use this as an excuse to gun him down.”
Alena’s pulse kicked, but she held his stare, steady and unflinching.
“I know exactly who you are,” Arneson went on, eyes narrowing. “You two helped put Dexter behind bars. He did wrong, I’ll admit that, and he never should’ve taken Melissa. But I can see what’s happening. The police, and you two, you’re gunning for him.”
Cal let out a slow breath, but Alena felt the tension radiating off him. She stepped closer to Arneson.
“Dexter killed someone during his escape,” she stated with as little emotion as she could manage. “His ex is missing. Of course the cops are looking for him. So are we. If you know where he is, tell us. That’s the only way he has a chance of being taken in alive.”
Arneson shook his head, distrust burning in his eyes. “You don’t want him alive. You want him punished for what he did to you.”
Cal shrugged. “Being behind bars for the rest of his miserable, shitty life will be punishment enough.”
Arneson’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a hard line. He gave no verbal response, but his silence spoke volumes.
The creak of the front door swung through the house, followed by quick footsteps on the hardwood floor. Instinct tightened every muscle in Alena’s body. She and Cal drew their weapons at the same instant Raines did, sights locked on the entryway.
