Clay slammed the trunk. “Why the hell are you out here at this time of night?”
“Because my girlfriend had a break-in at her place hours ago.” And you’re my fucking chief suspect. Instead of saying that, Odin added, “I woke up to the sound of an engine running only there were no headlights turned on for the vehicle. Seemed like someone was trying to be sneaky outside. So I investigated.”
“Ah…girlfriend, huh? No more ‘special friend’ BS?” Clay blew out a hard breath. “Figured she’d be with someone.” He cast a fast glance toward Maisey’s place. “And look, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. Okay, I mean…I kinda was. I didn’t want to wake her or anything so I was keeping the lights off so they wouldn’t shine through her window.”
Clay still hadn’t told Odin where he was heading. Odin had seen a small, overnight bag in the rear seat, so it obviously wasn’t a big trip.
“It’s a memorial service,” Clay muttered. “An old friend of mine…it’s been ten years since Hannah…um, since her death. I’m flying up to Tennessee to pay my respects, then coming back late Sunday night.”
Ten years? Exactly? Maisey hadn’t mentioned that. Anniversaries were often very significant for perps.
“Now, if you don’t mind…” Clay moved toward the driver’s side. “I need to get going. Lots to do before my flight.”
“Sure thing.” He took up a position on the sidewalk. “Have a good trip. Oh, and Clay?”
Clay had just started to slide into the vehicle. At Odin’s words, he paused.
“My condolences on your friend. Even after ten years, I’m sure it still hurts.”
“Not as much as you might think.” Clay slid inside. Slammed the door.
Drove away.
Not as much as you might think. That was one cold-ass thing to say. But then, Odin was starting to think that Clay Prescott was one cold-ass man. Odin stood there until the vehicle left the street. He saw Clay turn on his lights just as he turned right.
When he was sure the other man was gone, Odin slowly pulled his hand from his pocket. Before he’d tossed the keys back to Clay, he’d taken the liberty of keeping one key for himself.
The key to Clay’s house.
He heard footsteps rustling behind him. At least Maisey had waited until Clay left before making an appearance. And, please, be wearing pants. Because the mental image of Maisey just in her t-shirt and panties was more than enough to have his over-eager dick springing to attention.
“Since you let him go, I’m guessing there wasn’t a body in the trunk?” Her low voice teased his ears.
He turned toward her. “Basketballs. Your serial killer next door volunteers at the community center and coaches basketball.”
“I knew that. He also works in a soup kitchen once a month and has a free tutoring program at the college.” She inched closer. “So either the man is a saint or he is really good at hiding his true self. Ted Bundy was good at fooling people, too, you know.” She put her hands on her hips. Jean-clad hips, thank Christ. She was dressed.
And he was…mostly glad.
A horny-as-hell part of him was sad.
“Why was he taking basketballs out in the middle of the night?”
“Because your killer has a four a.m. flight. He’s dropping them off at the community center on his way to the airport.” A pause. “Turns out, it’s the tenth anniversary of his…friend’s death. He’s heading back to Tennessee to pay his respects.”
“Hannah,” she breathed the name. “It has been ten years.”
“He won’t be back until Sunday night, so that gives us plenty of time…” He lifted his hand. The moonlight and starlight overhead would provide just enough light for her to see what he held. “To search his house.”
“How did you get the key?” Maisey definitely sounded impressed.
Good. “I’m a professional.” Though, stealing from suspects was probably not what most professional PIs did. Oh, well. He was still new to the biz. “You want to take a look inside?”
“Yes. Absolutely one hundred percent, yes.”
He headed for Clay’s house.
She grabbed his arm. Pressed her body against his. “But is this legal?”
“Of course, not.”
“Odin…”
Now she seemed all nervous. “You don’t have to come in with me. I can do a sweep on my own.”
“No, I am definitely coming in with you. But if we get caught, I’m taking the fall, got it? This is all happening because of me. So if we set off some sort of alarm or if the cops catch us—or anything like that, I’ll take full responsibility. I will not drag you down with me.”
Cute. He lightly ran the back of his knuckles over her face. As if she’d have to drag him anywhere.
She leaned toward him. “I’ve never committed a B&E before.”
Hardly surprising. The woman screamed sunshine and baked cookies and innocence. Meanwhile, hell, he’d had all too much experience with the darker side of life. “Just stay close to me. I’ll take care of you.”
She did stay close. Stuck to him like glue as they slipped inside. There was no security system at Clay’s house. No exterior cameras. There had only been two keys on the fob—the key to the car and the key to the house. Taking it had been easy. Everything about the set-up was easy, and that very easiness sent off warnings in Odin’s head.
Did he want me inside? Had everything been a set-up?
A quick search was showing no obvious clues that could help them. Not like Odin expected a giant red sign that would shout EVIDENCE, but it would have been nice. Instead, the man’s house was stocked with only the smallest bit of furniture. His clothes were haphazardly tossed into his closet and onto the floor of his bedroom. Odin turned up no weapons. No body disposal items, nothing that would—
He heard an engine.
“Uh, Odin?” Maisey bumped into him. “Did you hear that?”
He’d heard that and he was peeking through the blinds to see— “He’s back.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Back and heading toward the house and dammit, maybe this had been a clever set-up. The guy was rushing back to catch them in the act. But…
No time to get out. Just protect Maisey. He grabbed her hand and pushed her toward the open closet.
He also deliberately dropped the key to the house. Let it fall to the floor, after he did a quick wipe with his shirt to smudge any would-be prints.
“Wait!” Maisey cried. “We need to get—”
He slid into the closet with her. Pulled the door shut.
“Oh, this is tiny,” Maisey murmured. “Or maybe you’re just really big. Yes, that’s it, of course. You’re super big, so you make small spaces seem even smaller and—”
Maisey talked when she was nervous. She was obviously super nervous and her talking was going to be a problem because they’d left the front door unlocked and now Clay was back inside. The hardwood floors were groaning beneath his feet.
“He’s going to find us. I’ll take the blame, just like I said, but, if he’s the killer, he will—”