Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Dare glanced over at Sawyer as they entered the dimly lit office. “Tell me everything you know.”

“Not much.” Sawyer shook his head, but his heart and mind raced with fear. “I know she went to the salon today, just like she always does. I was surprised that she wasn’t home, because?—”

He trailed off, a sudden realization creeping up on him. His pulse quickened, and he straightened, his mind zeroing in on a detail he’d almost overlooked. “The salon,” he said slowly. “There was that leak…”

Dare tipped his head in question, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, she mentioned it. But what does that have to do with her disappearance?”

Sawyer’s thoughts were moving faster than his words could keep up. “The insurance claim,” he said, the pieces falling into place. “She said she’d spoken with an insurance agent to assess the damage.”

Dare’s eyes narrowed as he caught on. “And she fits the profile of the other victims. Blonde hair, blue eyes…”

Sawyer didn’t need any more prompting. He rushed over to the nearest computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he accessed the insurance records. His heart pounded in his chest, the dread building with each passing second. He had to know who that agent was—had to find out if there was a connection.

Cam appeared in the doorway, and Dare turned his way. “What are you doing back here?”

“I heard something happened with Brynlee, so I told Kins I would come check it out.” His brows pulled together as he glanced at Sawyer. “What’s going on?”

Dare gave him a quick rundown, and Cam swore under his breath. “We think it’s the same guy?”

“We’re still waiting on Sterling to send over the info, so I can’t be sure.” Sawyer shook his head. “She stopped by one day, said she wanted to file a report because she thought the valve had been tampered with. She’d just spoken with the insurance adjuster, who said it was likely she wouldn’t be covered, but I took down the info anyway, just in case.”

The screen flickered, and the details of the insurance claim filled the screen. He scanned the document quickly, searching for the name. When he found it, a cold chill ran down his spine.

“Burt Johnson,” he read aloud, his voice grim. “From Sterling Assurance.”

Dare’s face darkened at the name. “Check vehicle registrations.”

He pulled up the database and typed in Johnson’s information, and his breath caught as the screen loaded. He slid a look Dare’s way. “He drives a 2012 Honda Civic—navy.”

Cam arched a brow. “What do you want to bet we find a decal in the back window?”

“We need to talk to him—now.”

Dare shook his head. “We need a warrant. If this guy is responsible, I don’t want to tip him off.”

Sawyer hopped up from the chair, anger and worry coursing through him. “I can’t just leave her out there! What if he has her right now?”

Dare held up a hand. “I get it, I do. But we’re still waiting on the insurance company to send over the claims from the other victims. We need more than this.”

“He drives the same car that was seen at two different scenes,” Sawyer fumed. “That should justify the warrant right there.”

“And you think you’re going to get the judge to sign off this time of night?” Dare’s gaze flicked to the clock. “We need all the information we can get. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers.”

“He’s right,” Cam said softly. “If this is the guy…”

He trailed off, and Sawyer ran a hand through his hair. “We need to at least talk to him. Please. I need to see him.”

Dare stared at him for a long minute, his expression implacable. “You understand what can happen.”

It wasn’t a question, and Sawyer’s stomach tumbled. If Johnson got spooked, there was a good chance he would kill Brynlee to get rid of any evidence. But if she was there…

Sawyer swallowed hard and nodded. “We’ll tell him it’s routine, that we’re just checking recent contacts.”

Dare blew out a harsh breath. “Ainsley will have my fucking balls if anything happens to Brynlee.”

“Same with Kins,” Cam chimed in. “I’ll get the warrant rolling. If too many of us show up, it’s going to look suspicious. Just don’t do anything stupid,” he warned.

Sawyer shook his head. “I won’t let anything happen to her—I promise.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dare nodded. “Let’s go.”

There was no time to waste. Sawyer grabbed his jacket, and they headed to the cruiser. The drive to Johnson’s house felt like an eternity, the silence in the car heavy with tension. They arrived at the house just as dusk was settling in, the sky a deep shade of blue.

The house was unremarkable, a modest single-story home in a quiet neighborhood. But there was something about it that set Sawyer’s nerves on edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on the edge of something dark, something dangerous.

Dare knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness. They waited, each second dragging on interminably, until finally, the door creaked open.

Burt Johnson stood in the doorway, and he offered them a politely curious smile. “Officers. What can I do for you?”

Sawyer stepped forward, his assessing gaze sweeping over the man in front of him. He guessed the man to be in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a slight paunch. Three pale pink lines stood out against the pale flesh of his cheek. “Mr. Johnson, we’re investigating a missing persons case, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Johnson didn’t hesitate. “Of course, come in,” he said, stepping aside to let them in. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

The interior of the house was neat, almost sterile in its cleanliness. Sawyer’s unease deepened, but he kept his expression neutral as they all took seats in the living room.

“Mr. Johnson,” Dare began, his tone measured, “I believe you were recently in contact with a woman named Brynlee Layne.”

Johnson’s brow furrowed in apparent concern. “Yes, I remember Ms. Layne. A very unfortunate situation with her salon. I spoke with her about the damage a few weeks ago. Is she all right?”

Sawyer watched him carefully, looking for any signs of deception. But Johnson seemed genuinely concerned, his eyes reflecting a sincere sympathy. “I’m afraid she’s gone missing,” Dare said.

Johnson’s expression to one of of shock. “Missing? That’s terrible. I hope she’s found safe.”

“We’re questioning everyone who’s been in contact with her for the past several weeks,” Dare continued. “Did you notice anything unusual at the salon?”

Johnson shook his head slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “Not really. She was understandably upset about the damage, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in our conversation. I filed the claim and moved on to the next case.”

Sawyer felt a gnawing doubt in his gut. Johnson was too composed, too cooperative. But there was nothing concrete, nothing that screamed guilt. He exchanged a glance with Dare, whose gaze flicked to the fireplace.

Sawyer shifted so he could see better, then froze. There on the mantle were a handful of framed photographs. One in particular jumped out at him: a young girl, no more than three, with cerulean eyes and pale blonde hair.

Sawyer’s mind spun as he listened to the conversation around him.

“We believe her disappearance might be connected to a few other women who were murdered recently. Can you tell me if you saw anyone hanging around?”

Johnson shook his head again, a somber expression on his face. “It’s heartbreaking what happened to them. I wish I could offer more help, but I only interacted with Ms. Layne only briefly. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary that I remember.”

“We appreciate your cooperation. And if you remember anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out,” Dare said as he pushed to his feet. “This is all routine, of course, but we might need to speak with you again as we continue our investigation.”

“Of course,” Johnson replied smoothly. “I’ll do whatever I can to assist.”

“Thank you for your time.” Sawyer stood, then tipped his head toward the mantle. “Is that your daughter?”

Burt Johnson stared at the photo for a long moment, myriad emotions flickering across his face before he nodded. “Kyra. She was the light of my life.” He glanced over at Sawyer. “She was killed by a drunk driver almost four years ago now.”

Sawyer felt a twinge of sympathy move through his heart. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Johnson led them toward the door. “The pain never really goes away, you know?”

“I’m sure,” Sawyer murmured. He paused near the front door and turned toward the man. “I know a good grief counselor if you ever need one.”

Johnson smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, but… We all have our own ways of coping.”

The man’s words sent a chill down his spine. As they left the house, Sawyer’s mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. He seemed genuinely sympathetic, but something about the man didn’t sit right with him.

“He’s hiding something,” Sawyer muttered as they walked back to the car. “Did you see those scratches on his face?”

Dare nodded slowly. “Lindsey?”

Sawyer’s gut twisted. Now it all made sense. The killer had removed Lindsey’s fingers posthumously because he couldn’t risk them finding his DNA.

They were close—he could feel it. And he wasn’t going to stop until he found Brynlee and put an end to whatever twisted game Johnson was playing.