Page 1 of Hell Hath No Fury

ChapterOne

Matthias Honeywell wanted a romantic getaway with his girlfriend. Driving three hours in a steady downpour to rescue Emma’s drug-addicted sister wasn’t at all what he had in mind.

“Eric’s still not answering,” Emma grumbled, her phone pressed to her ear. “Eric, it’s me again. We’re almost there. Where are you? Call me.” She jabbed the screen, lowered the phone, and pointed ahead. “Take the next right.”

Matthias slowed and made the turn into a community of similar-looking two-story homes with landscaped lots. “Didn’t you tell him we were coming?”

“You know I did.” Her tone was snippy, out of character, which she must’ve realized. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful for you driving me.” She rubbed her head through pixie-short red hair.

He knew she was still feeling the effects of a concussion, one from which her doctor had not cleared her to get behind the wheel.

Instead of mentioning her injuries, she gestured at the Jeep’s windshield with its squeaky wipers. “Through this lovely August weather, no less.”

Matthias reached over and put a hand on her knee. “Don’t apologize. You’ve put up with me when I haven’t been at my best.”

Her laugh sounded forced.

In the few months since they’d met, she’d been abducted more than once, and he’d been shot or shot at a couple of times. But he was a cop. An Erie City Detective. Violence came with his job. Emma, however, was a photographer. Most—but not all—of her run-ins with danger had been a direct result of hanging out with him, including—less directly—the concussion and gunshot wound from which she was currently recovering. He dreaded the day she wised up.

This morning, though, they were 150 miles south of Erie, in Emma’s home turf of Washington County, Pennsylvania, and Matthias was well out of his jurisdiction. They were on their way to Emma’s long-time friend’s house because he’d phoned her yesterday to say Nell, Emma’s runaway younger sister, had moved into his guest room.

“Make the next right.” Emma pointed. Once he did, she said, “Third house on the left.”

It was a two-story brick box of a house, situated between a pair of nearly identical two-story brick houses. “How can you tell them apart?”

“I couldn’t when Eric first moved here.”

Matthias eased his red Jeep into the driveway. Emma was out and hurrying through the rain toward the front door before he could turn off the ignition. By the time he joined her in the minimal shelter of the too-small portico, she had squatted and was reaching for one of the rocks in the flowerbed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I rang the doorbell. No answer.” She stood, pinching a key between her thumb and forefinger. “I know where he hides this.”

“Same place everyone else does,” Matthias grumbled. “Every burglar around likely knows about it, too.”

“Maybe.” Emma unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to stop and finger a keypad. “But they don’t know his security code.”

Matthias surveyed the foyer’s high ceiling, the staircase to a second-floor balcony, and a trio of open doors, the rooms unlit.

Emma disappeared to the rear of the house. “Eric? Nell?” she called out. No one responded. She reappeared through a different arched doorway and moved toward the stairs.

Matthias stopped her. “Wait. Let me.” Either no one was home, or… someone was, but they weren’t able to speak. If the latter was the case, he didn’t want Emma to be the one to find them.

He didn’t know if she comprehended his reasoning, but she stayed at the base of the stairs while he climbed them. The first room was a bedroom, the bed made, the dresser and bureau tops devoid of any personal items. A guest room. The next door opened to a bathroom with no toiletries in evidence. The third and final door led to the master suite. The bed was made, framed photos perched on a dresser, some pastoral paintings hung on the walls. The adjoining bathroom’s counters held the usual men’s toiletries: electric toothbrush on a charger, soap and lotion dispensers, a razor, shaving cream, and a hairbrush and comb. All tidy. Even the towels were neatly hung. From what little Matthias knew of Eric, he wasn’t surprised.

Matthias descended the steps. “Nothing seems out of order. Except, if he went on a trip, his toothbrush and stuff is still up there.”

Emma shook her head. “He keeps a go bag.”

Matthias was glad he knew Eric was gay. Otherwise, Emma’s detailed knowledge of his living arrangements would still stir the same jealousy he’d felt before learning the guy who looked like a movie superhero was no threat to their budding relationship.

“Was there any of Nell’s stuff in the guest room?”

Matthias didn’t know what “stuff” Nell owned. “It didn’t look like anyone was using it or the guest bath.”

Emma sagged against the newel post.

There was still one more place to look. “How do you get to the basement?”

She led him to an open door. “Down there.” At least she didn’t argue about letting him be the one to check it out.