It took just minutes, Hauck’s Bronco speeding down Route 1 with its top hat flashing, for him to pull outside the house on Sea Wall.

Two local blue-and-whites had already beaten him there.

Hauck noticed Karen’s white Lexus parked in front of the garage. He grabbed his gun and slid out of the Bronco, favoring his right leg. Two uniformed cops, each carrying lit Maglites, were exiting the front door. He recognized one from the station, Torres. Hauck went up to them, clutching his side.

“Anyone inside?”

Torres shrugged. “There was a dog locked in one of the rooms, Lieutenant. Other than that, negative.”

That didn’t wash. Karen’s car was here. If they had come after him, it seemed inevitable that they had come after her. “What about Mrs. Friedman? Did you check upstairs?”

“All over the house, Lieutenant. O’Hearn and Pallacio are still in there.” The officer’s eyes fell to Hauck’s side. “Jesus, sir…”

Hauck headed past him into the open house, the patrolman left staring at the trail of blood.

He called out, “Karen?” No reply. Hauck’s heart started to beat wildly. He heard barking. Officer Pallacio came down the stairs, with his gun drawn.

“Fucking dog.” He shook his head. “Shot by me like a Formula One.” He looked surprised to see Hauck. “Lieutenant!”

“Is anybody here?” Hauck demanded.

“No one, sir. Just Rin Tin Tin out there.” He pointed out back.

“Did you check the basement?”

The cop nodded. “All over, sir.”

Shit. Karen’s car was here. Maybe she had gone to her friend’s…. He racked his brain. What was her name? Paula. Hauck’s gaze fixed on a roll of packing tape on a chair. A pile of mail and magazines were scattered about the floor. The French doors leading to the patio were ajar—Tobey barking like crazy out there.

He didn’t like what he was feeling at all.

He went through the doors and looked out at the yard. The night was bright, clear. He smelled the nearby sound. The dog was on the deck, barking nonstop. Clearly upset.

“Where the hell is she, Tobey?” Hauck sucked in a breath. Every time he did, it killed him.

Limping, he made his way into the backyard. There was a small pool out there, a couple of chaises. Every instinct in his body told him Karen was in danger. She had talked with Charles. She knew. He should never have let her come back here without him. Why would it make sense to silence only him?

Farther along, his eyes were drawn to something lying in the grass.

Shoes. Karen’s. The ones she’d been wearing earlier tonight. A pattering of nerves drummed up in him. The beating in his heart intensified.

“Karen?” he called.

Why would they be out here?

He looked further. There was some gardening equipment on the ground, a plastic watering jug. Near the end of the yard, he came upon a wooden gate—unlatched. It opened to a narrow wooded path. He went through it. Hauck suddenly realized what it was.

It led around to the end of the town road off Surfside.

To Teddy’s Beach.

He heard a voice from behind him. “Lieutenant, you need any help out there?”

Clutching his gun, forcing the pain out of his mind, Hauck stepped along the path. He pushed a few branches out of his way. After thirty or forty yards, weaving behind other houses on Sea Wall, he saw the opening to the town road.

He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Karen!”

No reply.

Something on the ground caught Hauck’s eye. He knelt, almost buckling from the surge of pain shooting through his thigh.

A sliver of fabric. Orange.

His heart stopped still. Karen had been wearing an orange top.

A tremor of dread rose up in him. He looked out toward the beach. Oh, Jesus. He did his best to run.