“We want to ask you some questions.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, then he relented and stepped back. “Fine, but make it quick. I need to get into the office for a meeting.”
Tate went in first. Avery followed, using her heightened awareness to get a read on the situation. The wife was nowhere in sight. And the place was spotless, furnished and decorated to perfection, like a show home. “The report said you and your wife were in a heated argument.”
“Who reported it?” Zinke demanded.
“I don’t know. Was there an argument?” she asked.
“Yeah. So?”
Avery already disliked this arrogant sonofabitch. And it didn’t bode well that his wife wasn’t visible. “Where’s your wife right now?”
“Out. And it was nothing.” His cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. Oh, no, this asshole was pissed right off at having his behavior witnessed and reported.
“Where’s your wife now?” Tate asked.
“Out,” he snapped, no longer even trying to maintain a civil façade. “Look, whoever reported it was overreacting. I raised my voice, so what? I was mad. It’s over now.”
“Do you have any weapons in the house or on you?” He wasn’t wearing a holster, and there were no visible bulges in his clothing. Avery patted him down to be sure.
His jaw flexed. “In the gun safe in my office.”
“Which is where?” Tate said.
He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “In there.”
“Show us.” They followed him to the office and verified that the firearms were all accounted for.
“I’m going to check this level,” Avery told Tate.
“She’s not here,” Zinke snapped.
Avery ignored him and did her job, looking in each room on the lower floor for weapons or any sign that the wife was here. When she found nothing, she came back to join Tate in the living room.
“Did you assault your wife, Mr. Zinke?” Tate asked.
Zinke’s face turned even redder. “No. Now are we done?”
A muted thud sounded above their heads. All three of them paused. Avery watched Zinke closely. “Is someone else home?” she asked.
“No. Was probably the cat,” he muttered.
Right. “I’m going to look upstairs,” Avery said to Tate, pushing to her feet.
Zinke shot to his, blocking her way. “I didn’t give you permission.”
Avery arched an eyebrow at him, not the least bit intimidated. “Under the circumstances, I don’t need your permission.”
Zinke made a move to block her as she stepped past him, but Tate was there, placing himself between them with a solid hand on Zinke’s chest. “You stay here with me. Sit down.”
Zinke glared, his eyes burning with anger. “You got a warrant?”
“Don’t need one if we suspect someone might be hurt.”
“I’ll be reporting this,” Zinke growled, jaw tight.
“Be my guest,” Avery muttered to herself as she hit the stairs. She kept her hand on the butt of her pistol, attuned to every sound, watching for any sign of movement above her.
The upstairs landing led down two hallways. One to the guest suites, which were empty, and one to what she guessed must be the master.
Her pulse sped up as she walked toward the master bedroom. “Mrs. Zinke? I’m Detective Avery Dahl, Rifle Creek Sherriff’s Department. Are you all right?”
No answer. But then Avery caught the faint sound of something moving inside.
She entered the room. “Mrs. Zinke?”
Silence.
Screw this. Avery drew her weapon and began a more thorough sweep. The master suite was huge, and immaculate. Sweet perfume scented the air. “Mrs. Zinke?”
The bathroom was empty. So was the walk-in closet. What the hell? She’d heard something hit the floor up here not two minutes ago, then movement.
She stopped, spotting a faint smudge of dirt in the carpet. A potted orchid rested on an occasional table above it. The stain in this immaculately kept home was like a red flag. Pointing Avery directly to the built-in cabinets beside it.
She turned toward them and crouched down to pull one of the cabinet doors open, weapon ready.
A tiny gasp answered.
Avery’s heart clenched at the sight revealed in the beam of sunlight streaming through the window behind her. A blond woman was curled up in a ball inside, her face half-hidden in shadow. But the visible part of it was all Avery needed to see.
She holstered her weapon and got down on her knees to peer inside. “Tracy?”
The woman didn’t answer, her face wet with tears, her left eye swelling shut. She was trembling.
Avery extended a hand toward her. “It’s all right now. I’m Detective Avery Dahl. Come out and let me help you.”
The woman’s one-eyed gaze darted frantically around the room.
“My partner has him downstairs. You’re safe now.”
“N-no,” Tracy whimpered. “Don’t—d-don’t arrest him.”
Avery gestured with her hand. “Just come out and we’ll talk. I need to see that you’re all right.” Because clearly, she wasn’t.
Tracy put a trembling hand in Avery’s. Avery helped her out, and smothered a sharp intake of breath when she saw the woman fully in the light.
Zinke had busted her lip open. Her pink blouse was covered in blood. A welt was forming on her cheek below the swelling eye.
Tracy sniffed and wiped gingerly at her face, her gaze on the floor.
“You’re hurt,” Avery said, keeping her tone gentle even as she wanted to race back downstairs to watch Tate cuff Zinke and tell him what a piece of shit he was for beating his wife.
The woman shook her head. “N-no. I slipped in the sh-shower.”
“Tracy.” The woman looked up at her, the shame and fear there making Avery’s gut tighten. “You and I both know you didn’t slip in the shower.”
Tracy began to cry softly.
Avery gently took her over to sit on the edge of the wide, king-size bed and got on her radio. She called dispatch for an ambulance, ignoring Tracy’s protests. If Zinke had beaten her this badly, she might have fractures or even internal injuries that needed to be checked.
Just as she finished, Zinke’s enraged voice shattered the quiet from downstairs. “Get out of my fucking house!”
Tracy jerked, her entire body going rigid. Avery grasped her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “Listen to me. I want you to stay right here, okay? I’m going to check on my partner, and then I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
She turned and raced for the door. Zinke was screaming and swearing at Tate as she ran down the stairs. His enraged stare snapped to her the moment she came into view. Avery held it, a rush of triumph hitting her. “I found her and called for an ambulance,” she said to Tate. “Cuff him.”
Tate drew the cuffs from his belt and reached for Zinke’s wrist. Zinke snarled and took a swing at him.
Tate blocked the punch and sidestepped. Zinke stumbled past him, his momentum throwing him forward as he caught himself on the coffee table, scattering a pile of mail everywhere. “You wanna add resisting arrest on top of everything else?” Tate snapped, grabbing Zinke’s arm to twist it behind him.