The place wasn’t much to look at. If Wesley Boss was Malcolm Turner, he certainly hadn’t spent much of Emily’s insurance settlement on lodging. But Ione encompassed such a hodgepodge of housing styles that such a dilapidated ranch house didn’t surprise Jane. The thousand or so households in the area straddled a wide range of styles and incomes-everything from broken-down trailers to a handful of high-end mansions overlooking Lake Comanche.
“What I don’t understand is why there’s no deputy around,” she said. “We couldn’t have beaten him here. We had to drive all the way from Sacramento.”
That was the second time she’d mentioned it, and the second time Sebastian ignored her. Reaching under his seat, he retrieved a handgun and got out of the car. He didn’t seem to care about the deputy. He cared only about finding his man. But what would happen then? He couldn’t arrest Wesley Boss or Malcolm Turner or whoever the guy was.
“This can’t be good,” she breathed. She had her 9mm in her purse. She’d taken it out of her bottom desk drawer before leaving the office, but she was still very conscious of the fact that she hadn’t received her license to carry concealed. And Sebastian was from New York. Even if he had a license, California law didn’t recognize CCW licenses issued in other states.
“One way or another, we’re going to get into trouble. Where’s the damn sheriff’s deputy?” she asked again, only this time she was talking to herself. Sebastian was halfway to the house, keeping low to the ground and using every tree or bush he could for cover.
Briefly, Jane acknowledged that he looked good using the SWAT approach, like a professional. But she had more important things to worry about than admiring his athleticism and technique-like trying to stop him from taking the law into his own hands.
“Sebastian!” she hissed, standing on the triangle of soggy earth outside her car door. “This isn’t safe. Someone could get hurt.”
She knew he’d heard her when he looked back. But he wasn’t happy she’d broken the silence. With a dark scowl, he waved for her to get back in the car and shut up.
Obviously, he was going in whether she liked it or not. She could call David and try to find out where the deputy was, or she could follow him.
It would definitely be safer to stay in the car. But if Malcolm Turner was in that house and he was as dangerous as Sebastian thought, she should probably try to help. And what about Latisha and Marcie? They could be inside, too. Jane definitely didn’t want them to get hurt in whatever was about to happen.
With a curse, she stepped around the car door and closed it so softly it didn’t actually latch. Then she copied Sebastian’s SWAT performance. She was positive she didn’t look as good doing it, but there were no neighbors to witness her behavior-and she preferred to take any precautions she could to avoid getting shot.
“This is crazy,” she told herself over and over.
Sebastian was on the porch before she reached the front yard. He glanced in her direction, then did a double take. Pointing, he motioned for her to return the way she’d come, but she shook her head resolutely and continued forward, forcing him to wait for her.
Once they were close enough to speak without alerting anyone inside, she whispered, “I’ll go around the house, in case anyone comes out the back door.”
He’d been about to complain, or order her back to the car, even though he had no authority to do that. He had no authority to do anything, but he wasn’t asking permission, and she could tell by the crease in his forehead that he didn’t care if she had complaints.
Her plan must’ve made sense to him, however-or else he was pacified by the fact that she had a gun and could defend herself if necessary, thus removing the burden from him. Either way, his annoyed expression dissolved into the determination that’d been there before.
“Okay,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But make sure you have some sort of cover at all times. Do you understand?”
Ignoring the “Do you understand?”-who put him in charge, anyway?-she slipped around to the side yard. Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about running into any unfriendly dogs. There was no fence around the property. She could see that the backyard held nothing except a weather-beaten shed, some old tires and more mud.
“This is going to ruin my nice shoes,” she grumbled and did her best to hug the concrete foundation of the house-to avoid their destruction as much as her own.
It started to sprinkle as she took her position behind the shed. Although she was farther from the house than she would’ve liked, she couldn’t find better cover. The tires were lying flat on the ground, and there wasn’t so much as a tree between her and the back door.
Nothing seemed to be happening, anyway. Where was Sebastian? Had he knocked? He hadn’t fired; she would’ve heard that.
The wind whistled through the cracks of the shed, but there were no voices, no evidence of movement.
“Come on, come on.” Peering around the corner, she saw the same static view she’d seen before and wished it was all over. Her teeth chattered from the cold and rain. She’d been so concerned that a man she’d met an hour ago was approaching the house with a loaded firearm that she’d left the car without her coat.
A sudden noise-a loud crack-made her knees go weak. She was just reassuring herself that it hadn’t been a gunshot when Sebastian called out to her. “It’s safe. There’s no one here.”
Thank God. Leaning her head back to gulp for breath, she dropped her gun to her side.
“Hey, Burke!” he called when she didn’t answer. “You there? You okay?”
Burke? She hated going by Oliver’s last name. She would’ve changed it except that she would’ve had to change Kate’s, too, which would have hurt Oliver’s parents even more. They were good people. They didn’t deserve the pain he’d caused them.
“Burke!”
She leaned over to see him standing under the small covering that sheltered the back porch. The crack had been the wind wresting the door from his grasp and slamming it against the exterior wall. She could tell by the way he was hanging on to it.
“Name’s Jane,” she said. “And I’m fine.”
“You planning to stay out in the rain all day?” he asked when she didn’t budge.
With her free hand, Jane rubbed the wetness from her face. So many things could’ve happened in the past few minutes. She could’ve been shot in a gunfight-or shot someone else. Innocent victims might have been injured or killed. She could’ve been apprehended by the police and lost her weapon and any hope she had of obtaining a permit. Any of which would’ve cost her the job she needed in order to support her daughter.