Page 15 of Enigma (Pros and Cons Mysteries #6)

J ason began walking fast again after they left the security office. His long strides forced Olive to hurry to keep up as he headed toward the parking area.

She saw the tension in his shoulders, saw the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and she knew he was fighting the urge to do something—anything—rather than stand around talking while his father was missing.

“Jason, wait,” she called.

But he was already pulling out his phone, dialing as he walked.

She caught up to him just as he lowered the phone from his ear, his expression growing more frustrated.

“Nancy’s still not answering.” His voice sounded tight with worry. “I’ve called her four times since we left Dad’s room.”

That meant that Nancy was either in on this or she was in trouble.

“Do you have her address?” Olive continued to try to keep pace with him.

“No, but I can get it.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, the same gesture she’d seen him make countless times when he was working through a problem. “I know her last name is Brennan, and she mentioned living near the library where they met.”

They reached his car, and Jason unlocked it with more force than necessary. Olive climbed into the passenger seat as he started the engine, his movements sharp and efficient. She’d pick up her rental later.

“I know it’s a long shot that I’ll see the car he got into.” Jason backed out of the parking space. “But I have to try. I can’t just sit around waiting for someone else to find him.”

“While you do that, I’ll find out Nancy’s address.” Olive pulled out her phone, and she stared at Tevin’s contact information, steeling herself for another awkward conversation.

Then she dialed his number.

He answered on the second ring. “Olive? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Mostly.” She shrugged. “Listen, I need you to find an address for Nancy Brennan in the Clearwater, Florida, area. She’s probably in her fifties, might work at or volunteer with the local library.”

There was a pause, and she heard the familiar sound of Tevin’s fingers flying over his keyboard. “Nancy Brennan . . . got it. Clearwater has a small number of Nancy Brennans. Give me thirty seconds.”

The line went quiet except for the sound of typing. Olive looked over at Jason, who drove slowly through the hospital complex. His eyes scanned every parked car, every person walking through the parking lots.

“Found her,” Tevin said. “Nancy Elizabeth Brennan, age fifty-three, 1247 Sunset Drive, Clearwater. Works part-time at the Clearwater Public Library and volunteers with the Friends of the Library book club.”

“That’s her.” Relief filled Olive. “Thank you, Tev.”

“Olive . . .” His voice sounded gentle but serious. “I’m still working on that other thing you asked for. Lloyd Stewart’s financials. But what I’m finding . . . it’s complicated. We should talk when you have time.”

Her breath caught. “How complicated?”

“The kind that means you need to be very careful. I’ll send you what I have so far, but promise me you won’t do anything dangerous without backup.”

“I promise.” Even as the words left Olive’s mouth, she wasn’t sure she could keep that promise. “Send me Nancy’s address in a text.”

“Already done. And Olive? Be safe.”

People were saying that a lot lately, and for good reason.

The line went dead, and almost immediately Olive’s phone buzzed with a text containing Nancy’s address.

“1247 Sunset Drive,” she told Jason, reading from her phone. “Turn left out of the hospital complex.”

Jason nodded and changed direction, his driving becoming more purposeful now that they had a destination. “How did Tevin find that so fast?”

“He’s good at what he does,” Olive said simply. She looked out the window at the dark Florida streets, lit by streetlights and the neon signs of restaurants and strip malls. “Jason, what if Nancy’s not home? What if whoever took your father took her too?”

“Then we’ll figure out our next step.” Jason’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Let’s just hope she’s home and has some idea where Dad might have gone.”

As they continued down the road, Olive found herself hoping the same thing.

Nancy’s house was a modest single-story ranch that looked like it had been built in the 1970s and lovingly maintained ever since.

The front yard was neat and well-kept, with carefully trimmed hedges and a small garden of native Florida plants that looked healthy despite the late hour. The home spoke of someone who took pride in their surroundings without having a lot of money to spend on renovations.

Jason parked on the street, and he and Olive both stared at the dark house a moment. No car in the driveway, no glow from a television through the front windows, no sign of life at all.

“She’s not home,” Olive said.

“Maybe she went out to dinner or to stay with a friend.” Jason’s voice lacked conviction.

Olive knew he didn’t really believe that.

They walked up the concrete pathway to the front door, their footsteps sounding too loud in the quiet neighborhood.

Jason rang the doorbell, and they waited, listening for any sound from inside the house.

Nothing.

This time, he knocked. “Nancy? It’s Jason Stewart, Lloyd’s son. Are you home?”

Still no response.

Jason stepped back and looked around the small front porch. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small leather case that Olive hadn’t seen before.

“Is that a lock-picking kit?” Olive recognized the tools even in the dim porch light.

“Yeah.” Jason already knelt in front of the door and selected a tension wrench and pick.

She glanced around. “Is that a good idea? What if Nancy really is okay and discovers you broke into her house?”

He glanced up at her, his hands already working on the lock. “Then I’ll tell her it was a misunderstanding. My father is missing, Nancy’s not answering her phone, and her house is dark. I need to know if she’s in there and can’t answer, or if someone took her too.”

Olive looked around the quiet neighborhood, half-expecting to see porch lights coming on or curtains moving as neighbors noticed their activity. But the street remained dark and still.

The lock clicked open with a soft sound that seemed to echo in the stillness. Jason pocketed his tools and slowly turned the doorknob.

“Nancy?” he called softly as he pushed the door open. “It’s Jason. I’m coming in to check on you.”

The house was completely dark inside, and the air that drifted out smelled stale, like it had been closed up for hours. Jason reached for what he hoped was a light switch, and Olive stepped in behind him, her eyes trying to adjust to the deeper darkness of the interior.

That was when a shadow lunged at them from the living room.