“Excuse me, miss, but can you tell us where Janet Bridges is? We need to talk to her.”
A weary look shadowed her eyes. “Who wants to know?”
Miles cleared his throat and flashed his badge. “Ma’am, we have reason to believe she was friends with a man named Robert Dugan.”
The young lady visibly took a step back. “I know who he is. Why, has he hurt Janet?”
Jordan read the fear in her tone. Not fear of them but of Dugan. “We don’t know yet,” Jordan assured her. “But Mr. Dugan kidnapped Detective McGregor’s son and we need to find him. We were hoping Miss Bridges might be able to help.”
The woman shook her head, eyes flaring with a seed of panic. “Not Janet. Hell, she was terrified of the man. She told him to leave her alone. And when he was released from prison, she moved away so he wouldn’t be able to find her.”
Jordan grimaced. She hoped this wasn’t a dead end. “Do you have any idea where she moved?”
The woman fidgeted, obviously debating whether or not to reveal what she knew.
“Listen, miss,” Miles cut in. “Dugan shot and killed a deputy last night and injured another man before he abducted my little boy. He’s armed and dangerous and he may be coming after your friend.”
The young woman paled. “You don’t understand. Janet did love him at first, but when all that stuff came out at the trial...she was freaked out. She’s completely terrified of him.”
Jordan rubbed her arm. “Please tell us what you know. We promise you we’ll protect Miss Bridges.”
The girl chewed her thumbnail for a minute, then finally relented. “She made friends with this guy at the gym. His name is Matt Connor.”
“Where does he live?”
She took the pad Miles offered and scribbled down the address.
They thanked her then rushed back to the car. Maybe this Connor guy could point them to Janet and she could lead them to Dugan.
Then they could find Timmy and hopefully bring him back alive.
* * *
THE DRIVE TO CONNOR’S place took less than fifteen minutes. But for Miles, it was fifteen minutes of hell.
He swerved into the small neighborhood, silently noting that Connor must not make the kind of money Janet Bridges had. Small ranch houses were nestled on land that had once been farmland, leaving it flat and almost desolate. The summers must be unbearably hot with no trees for shade.
He parked and went around the Jeep to join Jordan. It was almost noon now and the sun had fought through the fog and hazy morning sky, slanting shadows on the sidewalk. The neighborhood seemed quiet: a few cars scattered here and there indicated stay-at-home moms or quite possibly with the economy, the unemployed.
Jordan remained quiet but kept pace with him as they climbed the front stoop. Toys littered the neighbor’s yard but Connor’s didn’t have any, suggesting the man was single and childless.
Maybe he lived alone? Or did Janet Bridges live with him?
Miles raised his fist and knocked, and Jordan tapped her foot while they waited. Miles inched sideways to check the garage and noted an older-model Volvo parked inside.
Hmm, was the man home? Or did he own a second car?
Jordan rang the bell again while he slipped to the side and peeked in the windows. Furniture in place, but no sign of anyone there.
Curious, he motioned to Jordan to follow him, and they walked around back. No fence, no guard dog... The back door was open.
Instincts born from years of police work kicked in, and he motioned for Jordan to stay back. She nodded, obviously sensing something was wrong.
Gun at the ready, he stepped into the threshold of the doorway. The moment he did, the stench of death hit him.
A second cautious step inside, and he saw blood splattered across the floor. He felt Jordan behind him as he slowly moved forward. Then he spotted a man’s body on the floor.
Dammit. It had to be Connor.
He’d been shot in the head, his brain matter and blood covering the floor and dotting the walls in a sickening spray.
Chapter Seventeen
Jordan gasped at the sight of the dead man.
Miles threw up his arm to keep her behind him. “Step back outside, and don’t touch anything, Jordan. I need to see if the woman’s here.”
Jordan nodded, her heart pounding as she backed out on the stoop to wait. She understood his concern—this was a crime scene now. They couldn’t contaminate the evidence or it might interfere with arresting and prosecuting the killer.
What about Janet Bridges? Was she dead in there as well?
Had Dugan killed them both?
She jammed her hands in the pockets of her jacket to keep from clutching the railing and scanned the backyard in case the killer was watching. Two houses over, she spotted a woman pushing a small child in a swing. A dog barked in the distance, starting a chorus as other neighborhood dogs joined in.