“This is getting old,” Mason stated. He took the same turn.
Too fast.
The back end of his truck seemed to float, and he tried to steer out of the slide.
Oil?
The truck continued to slide, and the right back end dropped. A horrific scraping sound vibrated through his seat and steering wheel before the truck slammed to a stop. Mason’s head whipped forward, his body held in place by his seat belt.
Shit.
His back end was in a deep ditch. Frustrated, he punched the accelerator and rubber burned. The vehicle lurched but stayed in the ditch. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel.
Far ahead, the signature taillights flashed as the Mustang turned out of the complex.
“Mason?” asked Nora. “What was that?”
“That was me going into a ditch. He’s headed west on the road in front of the complex.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My truck isn’t.”
Nora spoke into the other line, informing the dispatcher of the Mustang’s direction and that Mason was in a ditch. “I’m getting you a tow truck,” she told him. “I’ll run you home.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can call Ava.” He climbed out of the truck.
“She’s waiting for officers outside the house. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Mason scrutinized his truck, its back end several feet into the ditch.
Ava will give me a hard time for months about this.
He sighed and reluctantly agreed with Nora.
It was nearly midnight as Ava leaned against her car’s door, waiting for the officers to finish clearing her house as Bingo barked nonstop from the backyard. The two officers had adamantly insisted she wait out front. She’d argued and then let them have their way. Clearly Bingo was fine, and that was all she truly cared about.
Mason had called, updating her on what exactly he had seen on their street and then admitting he’d put his truck in a ditch.
She’d wanted to tease him, but his frustrated tone made her hold back.
Headlights shone as a vehicle turned on her street, and a moment later she recognized Nora and Mason. Nora parked behind her at the curb, and Mason opened his door. Ava met him halfway, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. Whipped my head a bit, but I’ve had worse.”
“You sure it was Shawn Braswell?”
He grimaced. “I didn’t see the driver. I could tell there was one male in the car, but that was it. Why else would he take off?”
“Because he had stolen plates?”
“Why worry that the person behind you in a pickup would know anything about stolen plates unless you recognize the truck as the personal vehicle of someone in law enforcement?”
Ava frowned. “You think he knows what you drive?”
“I think he knows a lot of things.”
Ava turned to look at the house, her stomach tightening. “Mason . . . how does he know where you live?” she asked softly.
He said nothing.
Nora spoke up. “You think you’ve been followed?”
Fury burned in Ava’s gut.
“That seems the most logical conclusion,” said Mason.
Ava massaged the back of her neck, wanting to release its ache, which had hounded her all day. “We need to see if the cameras caught anything.”
“I can do that on my phone.”
Voices turned their attention. The two officers had stepped out of the home and were talking on the front porch. Ava was pleased that one had put a leash on Bingo and brought him out. She, Nora, and Mason crossed the street and met the officers as they came down the porch stairs.
“The house is clear,” said the female officer. “We walked the yard too.” She scratched Bingo’s ears. “This guy wanted to come. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him out.”
“Not at all,” said Ava, taking the leash. She squatted down and gave the dog a hug. “As long as he’s safe, I don’t care about the rest of the house.”
“I care,” said Mason. “We’ve got half our savings wrapped up in that money pit.”
“The kitchen looks great,” said the other officer. “My wife wants to do something similar in our house.”
“Expect it to take thirty percent longer than estimated and cost twenty percent more,” said Mason. “Nothing unusual inside?”
“No, all the doors were locked, as Agent McLane told us they should be. Windows intact and locked.”
Bingo pulled on the leash, straining to go up the porch stairs.
“Sit,” said Mason, who continued to speak with the officers.
Bingo sat, his dark gaze going from Mason to Ava and back. He gave a long whine.
Ava cocked her head as she studied the dog, and Mason stopped midsentence to look at Bingo. “What’s-a-matter, boy?” he asked.
The dog whined again and pulled on the leash—while still sitting.
Ava looked to Mason, who lifted one shoulder. She loosened the leash. “Come on, Bingo,” she said, taking a step toward the stairs. The dog bounded up in two leaps and stopped at an Adirondack chair near the door, making snorting sounds as he sniffed at it.
A small paper Starbucks bag was on the arm of the chair. “No,” Ava told Bingo as she grabbed the bag a split second before he did. She glanced in the bag, expecting to find the remains of a scone or muffin.
It was a human finger.
“Ewww!” She stared, and then she held out the bag with two fingers, bile rising in the back of her throat.
“Mason, I think Bingo found Reuben’s missing finger.”
Minutes later the finger was in an evidence bag, and the three of them crowded around Mason’s laptop to watch the camera coverage.
“There he is,” Mason said under his breath. A man in shorts, cap, and T-shirt strolled to their front porch, took the stairs two at a time, pretended to knock, and casually left the Starbucks bag on the chair.
His face was hidden by his hat, but Ava knew that stride and physique. “That is the same guy who left the backpack in the dumpster. He knew exactly where our camera was. Look how he turns his face away at the right moment. The blond hair in the other video must have been a wig.”
“Why didn’t he use the same disguise here? Or maybe a different one?” asked Nora. “He appears to have short dark hair. That’s what Shawn Braswell has, correct?”
“Don’t know if it’s currently short, but it is dark,” said Ava. “Nothing here proves that it’s not Shawn Braswell.”
“Especially since he was driving a silver Mustang,” said Mason. “I’ll check with the neighbors tomorrow and see if anyone got his face on camera. Too bad it was so dark.”
“I’m more disturbed that he knows where you live, Mason,” said Nora.
The detective’s face was blank, but Ava knew exactly what she was thinking.
Does he know where I live too?
“Please be careful, Nora,” she said.
“I’m always careful, but this is unnerving. My condo building has good security.”
“Watch when you park,” added Mason.
“I don’t like how personal this feels,” said Ava.