Page 47 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Drizzle and darkness bathed the Gibson farm by the time Bree had her warrant in hand.

The judge had been exacting with the affidavit and hadn’t signed until Rory had called and identified the white fibers found on Claudia’s purse as alpaca wool.

The second piece of evidence had clinched his decision.

Frustrated that the delay had made the search more difficult, Bree scanned the property.

Both the pickup truck and sedan were parked between the house and barn.

Elaine’s sedan was gray, Bree noted, a light shade like the disabled vehicle parked on the overpass when the cinder block had struck her SUV.

No lights shone from any of the buildings.

There were plenty of places to hide on a farm, and her team would have to operate in the dark.

Todd held the battering ram. Matt carried a rifle.

Bree drew her Glock, checking the light mounted to it.

She took a deep breath and held it to slow her heart rate.

With a long, controlled exhalation, she signaled the team to move forward.

They jogged up the driveway. Bree slipped in a half-frozen muddy rut but caught her balance before going down in the slop.

Bree crept to a double window to the left of the front door.

Matt crossed to a matching window on the other side.

Bree used her cell phone on a selfie stick to peer inside.

The rooms were slightly darker, and rain spotted her phone screen, so she couldn’t see much.

But she didn’t notice any movement. She motioned toward the door.

Then she and Matt flanked it. Bree switched on her gun light. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears.

Staying clear of the center, Todd swung the battering ram and struck the door next to the dead bolt.

The old wood jamb gave on the first hit.

The door flew open, and Todd stepped aside to trade the battering ram for his long gun.

Matt and Bree swept in, crossing the threshold with speed.

She shined her light into the left corner of the space. Matt took the right.

Empty.

They moved through the living room. Todd veered toward the dining room. Matt headed for the bedrooms. Bree continued down the hall, checked two storage closets, then proceeded to the kitchen. Three closed doors loomed ahead. Bree opened the first, flashing her light into a pantry. Empty.

Matt emerged from the second doorway and mouthed, “Bedrooms are clear.”

Bree could see Juarez and Zucco at the back door. Bree spoke into her mic. “We’re almost done here. Help the rest of the team with the outbuildings. The dog will find someone before we will.”

Juarez and Zucco turned and jogged across the grass.

Todd approached the third door. Matt covered him as he pulled it open.

The beam from Todd’s light cut through the darkness to illuminate narrow wooden stairs leading downward.

He flipped a light switch on the wall, but nothing happened.

They waited, listening for breathing or the rustle of fabric, but Bree heard only the whoosh of a furnace turning on.

Hot air rattled from a vent near the baseboard.

Bree’s pulse hammered as Todd started down the stairs, leading with his lighted weapon.

Stairwells were called fatal funnels because you were trapped and vulnerable to ambush on the way up or down, so Todd didn’t dawdle.

He moved steadily, peering into the space as he descended.

Matt stepped into the doorway to follow him.

When Todd hit the fourth step, a crack sounded, and he plunged downward, disappearing into the darkness.