Page 44 of You'll Be Sorry

Raquel sighed heavily, swinging back in the direction of thehouse. It wasn’t until she hit the driveway she realized the dog hadn’t reappeared.

She scowled, whistling sharply. Then, when that didn’t work, clapped her hands for emphasis.

More whistling. Calling. Clapping. Returning to the woods. Retracing her path down the driveway.

But it didn’t make a difference.

The dog was gone.

16

Mandy was headed back to her vehicle for a fresh thermos of coffee when she came upon Raquel Collins, striding down the driveway with a frown on her face and twigs in her hair. The usually impeccably groomed female looked so out of sorts, Mandy halted in her tracks. Which is when she noticed the woman’s gloved hand, fingers drumming against the top of her thigh.

Mandy had seen that display the other night as well—some kind of nervous tell.

“Everything all right?” Mandy called out.

“The dog is gone.”

“Mr. Man…the stray?”

“We were taking a walk. Then I saw someone in the woods. I thought maybe it was the paparazzi trying to trespass. I went to confront them with the dog by my side. Except then I tripped. And I saw a flash of bare feet. Why would a reporter have bare feet? Why wouldanyonebe running through the woods in bare feet?” Raquel shook her head. “And now the crazy mutt is gone, and Theo is going to be upset, and…and…shit.”

“Whoa. The intruder was barefoot? You’re sure about that?”

“Yes. But no. But yes.”

“Show me where this all happened.”

Raquel led Mandy back down the drive another twenty feet. Sheappeared to be studying the edge. Finally, she nodded slightly, pointing to a trampled section of brush. “I entered right around here.”

Mandy stepped into the woods. The bare-limbed trees were intertwined enough to force them to bob and weave, but nothing that wasn’t manageable. Mandy kept her gaze focused straight ahead, searching for recently trampled underbrush or snapped branches. With all the dead leaves littering the ground, footprints were impossible to determine, but she could just make out signs of disturbance here and there.

She reached a spot of freshly churned earth. Raquel grimaced. “That’s where I tripped.” She pointed to an exposed root. “Stupid birch.”

“You saw the person as you went down?”

“More like a flash of movement. Long crazy hair. Some kind of gray-colored top. And bare feet. I swear, I caught a glimpse of bare feet.”

“Male or female?”

Raquel frowned, considering. “A girl. That was my first thought. What was a girl doing running through the woods? But she was gone before I could get up.”

Mandy nodded. Her hand was hovering instinctively above her holster. She flexed her fingers, forced herself to relax. Someone fleeing through the woods was hardly cause for alarm, especially as the person was runningawayfrom the scene. In Mandy’s defense, spending eighteen hours staring at disarticulated human remains didn’t do wonders for one’s nerves.

Now she shouldered her way through a clump of bushes, then twisted around a larger maple. And immediately came upon a small leather boot.

“Is that a shoe? Like, the person’s shoe?” Raquel spoke up behind her.

Mandy knelt down, studying the single piece of footwear more closely. She withdrew a pen from her coat pocket, used it to flip it over.

The thin brown boot had definitely seen better days, the toeheavily scuffed and sole worn to almost nothing, while the frayed laces were pocked with burs. The size and style appeared consistent with a female, for whatever that was worth.

Mandy rose to standing, checking ahead for any additional items, say, the other shoe, or maybe socks, gloves, personal ID. An investigator could dream, after all.

“I don’t get it,” Raquel said. “Someone was lurking in the woods around my house. And ran…straight out of her own boot?”

The woman picked up the shoe before Mandy could stop her, though the item hardly qualified as evidence unless one wanted to consider trespassing a major crime. Raquel peeled back the tongue, peering inside.