Free The First Cut by Dianne Emley Page B

necessary?”
    She dropped her gun to her side but didn’t holster it, neither did she explain.
    He had a pleasant, unremarkable face, with dark eyes and pale skin. It would later confirm for her that the worst monsters came in the most benign packages. His thick hair was raven black and looked dyed. He was tall. Vining estimated six feet. He was dressed in what passed for business casual—a pale yellow polo shirt belted into light green chinos. She would later learn the embroidered design on his shirt of a lamb dangling by a ribbon tied around its middle was the logo of Brooks Brothers.
    She’d seen Dale David’s placards around town, but had never seen the man. The real Dale David later sent a large basket of indoor plants to Vining’s hospital room. He had been a suspect for less than five minutes, having quickly proved he’d spent the entire day showing properties to a couple who were relocating to the area from Michigan.
    When Vining later reflected on that incident, as she would do a million times until she felt she had wrung from it all the substance she could, she realized it was all there in his body language. Most people would be terrified to have a gun aimed at them. This man seemed nervous, but he was acting. Instead of fear at the sight of her weapon, his eyes flashed with excitement. In her probably enhanced memory, Vining saw his pupils dilate.
    “Here’s my card.” He indicated that he was going to put his hand into his pocket.
    “Hold it right there. I’ll get it. Turn around please.” She began patting him down.
    “You’re searching me?”
    “The front door was wide open and you weren’t waiting.”
    “I was in the bathroom.”
    In his front pocket, she found several business cards from Dale David Realty, but nothing else. No wallet. No I.D. She didn’t make much of that. Her ex-husband didn’t always carry his wallet, depending upon the pants he was wearing.
    She pocketed a card.
    “I only called because I found a window open in the kitchen. It’s this way.” He turned and started quickly walking.
    “Hold up. What’s behind here? Could you open this door, please?”
    She pointed to the closed door to her right.
    “That’s the powder room. In these old houses, they put them right off the front door like that for travelers passing by who might need to use the facilities.”
    “Open it, please.” She stepped back, turning to have a look around the den and the living room next to it. Across the foyer was the dining room, which was also empty. She came up behind him as he opened the closed door. She also had him open the door of a closet that was tucked inside.
    She holstered her weapon. She freely admitted she’d earned her other station moniker of Quick Draw. Her rationale was simple. Better to be safe than not go home at the end of watch. This guy struck her as strange, but she felt more annoyed than at risk. She put him in the category of people who were only friendly to the police when they wanted an officer to do something for them. When the tables were turned and an officer was doing his job in pulling one of them over for reckless driving or DUI, forget about it. She’d look at his open kitchen window, call in that the case was closed, and head home to barbecue steaks for her and Emily.
    She closed the front door. “How much of the house did you search?”
    “All of it. Even the attic and basement. Like I said, I just called the police to CYA in case the house is broken into later.”
    “Isn’t this house alarmed? Why didn’t the alarm go off when the window was opened?”
    “My assistant was the last one here. The display on the alarm panel indicated a window was open when I got here today. She must have set the alarm anyway when she left. I’m getting on her about that, trust me.”
    He pointed in the direction of the dining room. “Should you take a look?”
    She followed him across the dining room and through a butler’s pantry. Glass-fronted cabinets there were