Jordie waited until they disappeared around the back corner of the house, then came out from behind the car door and started for the house. She told herself that they might have missed a clue as to where Josh could be now, but her real reason for wanting to inspect the place herself was Shaw’s evasiveness. What hadn’t he wanted her to see?

She pushed open the front door, then paused on the threshold and surveyed the front rooms with dismay. She walked through them quickly and went into the kitchen where she remembered her great-aunt serving her and Josh Christmas cookies and punch.

She was appalled by what she saw now. Had her brother’s mental state deteriorated to complete and total madness? How could he possibly live in this filth? Did he even recognize it as squalor?

Realizing that investigators would soon be summoned to collect evidence, she didn’t touch anything, not that she would have. The bathroom was more sickening than the kitchen.

The sight of the disordered bedroom filled her with despair. When Josh had finally been released from his year’s stay in the hospital, he was welcomed home with a newly decorated bedroom. Their mother had hoped that the surprise would boost his spirits. It hadn’t, of course.

The comparison between that bright, newly outfitted bedroom to this sad chamber was an allegory of Josh’s tragic and inexorable decline.

She returned to the kitchen. Through the window, she saw Wiley emerging from what appeared to be a work shed, while Shaw was bent down looking beneath a ramshackle pier. He would be upset with her for not obeying the rules.

She returned to the front porch and went down the steps. There she paused to look back at the house’s façade and wondered why it had fascinated Josh. What about it had intrigued him enough to make him want to return? It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t that large. The design was—

Suddenly she was struck by an incongruity.

Two gabled windows, symmetrically placed, jutted from the sloped roofline above the porch, but the house didn’t have a second story. Or did it? Had she missed the stairs?

Puzzled, she went back inside, but it was as she’d thought. There wasn’t a staircase where normally one would ascend from the living area to the second floor. She knew there wasn’t one in the back of the house, or off the kitchen, because she would have seen it.

Standing in the center of the floor between the living room and dining area, she made a slow pivot. Taking in architectural details she hadn’t paid attention to before, she noticed a narrow doorway in the corner of the dining room, concealed by its fit into the paneling and wainscoting.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She should alert Shaw.

Instead, she went over to the door and pushed it inward.

The smell hit her. Hard.

She covered her nose and mouth, as much to stifle her sob as to keep her from breathing the odor. Swallowing fear and dread, she gave the door a firmer push. It opened wider to reveal a steep staircase. “Josh?” Breathing swiftly through her mouth, she called again, “Josh? If you’re up there, please come down.”

There wasn’t a sound except for the beating of her heart.

Above her, sunlight shone in through the two windows so she could see to climb the stairs. The higher she got, the brighter the light became. It filled the attic at the top of the stairs with inappropriately cheery light, because the only thing in the space was a black body bag, zipped closed, lying on the floor.

“Oh, Jesus. Oh no!” She slumped against the doorjamb, covered her mouth again to stifle her keening sounds, and stared at the bag. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that when she opened them, it would be gone.

It wasn’t, of course.

She should alert Shaw.

But she owed Josh this one final penitence.

On rubbery legs she walked to the bag and knelt down beside it. Her hand shook as she took hold of the metal tab and unzipped the bag all the way down, then spread it open.

She screamed. Or would have.

Except that a hand was clamped hard over her mouth from behind and an eerie, overamplified, horribly distorted voice said, “Guess who?”

Chapter 39

As Shaw and Wiley walked from the pier back toward the house, Wiley mopped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “I was afraid we’d find his body or a grave in one of those buildings.”

“Crossed my mind.”

“Your side hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s blood on your shirt.”

Shaw seemed not have heard that. He was distracted, his brow creased with concentration. “You called this in?”

“They’re on their way. We gotta keep them from trampling those tire tracks. If we get a cast, maybe we can type Josh’s car.”

Without breaking stride, Shaw looked toward the house. “See that it’s done quickly, then let’s get everybody out of sight. We should lay an ambush. Didn’t look like he cleared out for good, did it? He left clothes behind. His glasses.”

“Maybe he didn’t leave of his own volition,” Wiley said. “Maybe he was removed.”

“By Panella, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe,” Shaw said thoughtfully. “But nothing indicates that a fight took place.”

“Hard to tell. The place is a shambles.”

“I know, but…”

“What?” Wiley prodded.

“I don’t know. Something keeps bothering me.”

“Heat’s bothering me,” Wiley mumbled, blotting his forehead again. “What’s bothering you?”

“I can’t quite pull it up.” He slowed. Wiley paused with him. Shaw said, “The first time I talked to Panella was on Saturday afternoon. Called him on Mickey’s phone to begin the negotiation of a new deal. That was around two o’clock.”

“Okay.”

“That same afternoon around three thirty, Josh shipped Jordie a cell phone.”

He turned to stare hard at Wiley, but Wiley got the impression that Shaw wasn’t seeing him at all, but rather a puzzle with one vital piece missing.

Suddenly Shaw said, “Those devices are easily obtainable off the Internet.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what you said. Earlier today.” He whipped his gaze back to the house, then his long strides started eating up the distance back to it. By the time Wiley caught up to him, he was pushing through the back door.

“What are you thinking?” Wiley asked as he followed him through the kitchen and into the dining room.

“Josh wasn’t hedging his bet when he mailed that phone. He knew Jordie was alive. An hour and a half earlier, he’d heard her shout through the speaker of the phone.”

By now they’d reached the porch. Shaw drew up short and, in the instant that Wiley saw the empty driver’s seat, Shaw said, “Oh, fuck me.” He drew his pistol. “Search the house,” he shouted as he leaped over the steps, landed hard on the ground below, and took off running.

Wiley spun around and ran back into the house. The first thing he noticed was the opening in the corner of the dining room. He ran toward it, saw the staircase and bolted up it.

Nearly gagging on the smell, he topped the stairs and saw the open body bag on the attic floor.