Page 158 of Paranoid

“Yeah. Deputy Max Swanson down here with the Seaside PD. We’ve got a visual on the ’97 Buick LeSabre, Idaho plates. Same number as you’re looking for.” To confirm he read the numbers.

Cade was instantly alert, his sleep deprivation forgotten. “That’s it.”

“Well, okay then. The car is parked in front of the Luxor Apartments—they rent by the day—but we think he walked into town. One of our patrol guys spotted the vehicle, and saw the driver head toward Broadway and followed. We think he’s in the Wooden Nickel, on Fourth. Near the river. I’m putting a man inside to keep an eye on him.”

“We’re on our way. The subject is Bruce Hollander, not long out of the pen.”

“We got that.”

“So, approach with caution. He could be armed.” He thought about Violet Sperry’s missing pistol. “Make that he’s probably armed. I’ll be there in half an hour, maybe a little longer.” The drive was forty-five minutes, but he’d push it.

“You want us to go in after him?”

“Not till I get there, but don’t lose him.” Cade wanted to talk to Hollander before he dealt with any other officers and decided to lawyer up. An ex-con like Hollander knew the ropes, but he might spill a little before he clammed up. “We think if he’s the guy on the tape, then he’s the last person to have been seen with Nathan Moretti, who’s missing, though Moretti might be a suspect himself. Hollander was in the vicinity of a violent homicide, and, believe it or not, he’s a prime suspect in a dognapping, which has been solved.”

“A what?”

“Don’t ask. Just focus on keeping track of him.” Cade was already reaching for his service weapon.

“You’ve got it.”

“Okay. We’re on our way,” he said, then gave Swanson his cell number, slipped on his holster, and made certain he had his sidearm and an extra clip. “It’s showtime,” he told Voss. “Bruce Hollander’s been spotted in Seaside. Grab your gun.”

* * *

“What do you mean, it’s feline?” Kayleigh demanded. She’d just gotten home and was peeling off her clothes when she’d taken the call from Akira Wu, the lab tech working on the hair found on the painter’s tape. Wu had promised to get back to Kayleigh no matter what the time and she was as good as her word. “You’re saying the hair on the roll of tape was from a cat?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re sure?” Kayleigh asked and the radio silence she received said it all: Akira rarely, if ever, made mistakes. “Okay, fine, it’s just that the woman who was killed lived with three dogs and one of the suspects had dog-napped a beagle and—”

“Feline.” The word was clipped. “Definitely.”

“Okay. Got it.” And what was she going to do with it? “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” And then Akira clicked off, leaving Kayleigh a little deflated and wondering about her next step.

“Forget it,” she told herself; the whole cat hair thing was probably a false

clue. The hair could have been picked up anywhere, the tape having a shelf life of forever. She’d run down the manufacturer, and that particular painter’s tape had been produced for over ten years and was common across the country and into Canada.

So what had they gotten from it? A big, fat zero.

She dropped her clothes haphazardly into a hamper, and headed for the shower, where she intended to wash off the grit and worries of the day. And think. She was bone weary as she stepped under the hot spray and lathered both her body and hair. The case was getting to her, her thoughts swirling around the victims—two women, and now possibly a third, a man, all who knew one another, graduated together, and were working on a damned twenty-year reunion.

Unless the third victim, Nate Moretti, wasn’t a victim at all, but the killer.

Did that make any sense?

And would he string his lover up in a bell tower?

How was that crime tied to Violet Sperry’s homicide?

By the fricking painter’s tape.

“Arrrgh.” She let out the frustrated sound as she rinsed off, letting the warm water cascade over her naked body. Finally, she twisted off the taps and toweled off, and pulled on an oversized T-shirt and fresh underwear. Sleep. That was what she needed. Eight hours. Maybe nine. Or even ten. She’d take whatever she could.

She heard her phone ring as she was combing the tangles from her wet hair. Cade’s number appeared on the screen. Her heart leapt but she told herself it was because of the case and had nothing to do with her emotions. Nothing.