“Maybe she’s out for the morning,” Laurel said, peeking in the curtained front window.
“And maybe she returned to her full-time residence.”
“Before the end of summer?”
“Let’s check around back.” She was standing too close to him. He was smelling lilacs again.
Though he made no reply, he followed Laurel as she rounded the corner of Ms. Hamilton’s home.
“Oh, my God.” Her voice shook.
Alarmed, Scott stopped. “What?”
She pointed. He looked.
And froze.
William Byrd’s car was in the driveway.
* * *
SCOTT’S PACE QUICKENED. He pulled the notebook out of his pocket, though he didn’t need it. He’d already ascertained that the license on the black BMW matched the one Byrd had left on his registration at Twin Oaks.
“So he was with her,” Laurel said, looking in the passenger side of the car as Scott tried the driver’s door.
The car was locked.
“Apparently.”
“But if his car’s here, why isn’t he?” Cupping her hands around her face to shield the light, Laurel peered in the back window. “There’s nothing in the car.”
Scott made note of the mileage on the odometer. “Let’s go try the house again.”
Their second attempt was no more successful than the first. Pulling out his cell phone, Scott tried Ms. Hamilton’s number again.
Nothing.
If someone was home, they were choosing not to let anyone know.
* * *
“LOOK AT THIS,” Laurel said, pulling newspapers out of a delivery slot by the front door. She was getting a bad feeling about this whole thing and was very glad that Scott was with her. “There are over three days’ worth of papers here.”
“That pretty well indicates she didn’t plan to be away,” Scott said.
“Or else she’d have canceled the paper,” Laurel finished for him.
Scott took the newsprint from her. “They date back to Saturday.”
“She wasn’t here then, but Byrd’s car was?”
“Or it came later.”
Laurel frowned. “Do you think William’s been here without her?”
“It’s possible.”
“Maybe when they met for lunch, she gave him a key to the place.” Laurel desperately wanted to hope so.