Solitude Creek (Kathryn Dance 4)

Okay. Time to leave, she told herself. Now.

Another crackle of underbrush. Close.

And then:

A mobile phone started to ring--from about thirty feet in front of her.

"Shit!" a voice called from behind her.

Jesus, somebody'd been flanking her. One of the perps. She crouched, making herself a smaller target.

"Run, run!" A male voice, from the direction of the ringtone.

And she heard two sets of sprinting footsteps, heading away from her. She saw no one. She thought about ordering them to stop but, unarmed, she didn't want to give her position away.

Dance lifted her phone and hit a speed dial button.

"Kathryn."

"Michael. They're here, east at the end of the road. Junipero Drive."

"The perps? From Goldschmidt's?"

"Right. What I'm saying."

"What were you doing?"

What the hell was he asking this for? She snapped, "Call it in. They split up. One headed toward town. The other to Asilomar."

"Where are you?"

Why was he asking? "Where I just said. East, end of the road. A three-story Victorian."

"I'll make the call." Then he snapped, "Now get back here."

A half hour later Dance and O'Neil were with the Crime Scene Unit at Goldschmidt's house.

A Pacific Grove Police Department car pulled up and two officers got out.

O'Neil nodded. "Anything?"

"Nope. We locked down Sunset, Asilomar, Ocean View and Lighthouse. But they must've gotten to their car before we set up the roadblocks."

"Footprints?"

The wry smile on the face of one of the officers attested to the fact that they all knew: The ground here was mostly sand and if you expected footprints for the electrostatic impression machine, you were going to be disappointed.

David Goldschmidt approached, carrying a roller and a can of paint. He set them down. He was interested to learn that Dance had had an encounter with the perps near the house up the street, Junipero Manor.

He said, "You were close to them, sounds like."

"Fairly. They'd split up. One was probably twenty feet away, the other fifty."

"What did they look like?" His gray eyes narrowed. He focused intently, as if he wanted to learn all he could about the men who had defiled her home.

She explained, "Too dark to see much." Pacific Grove was not known for abundant street lighting.

"Twenty feet, you said? And you saw nothing?"