In an instant, Jerry’s arm was on his. “Shut the door!” he hissed. “Are you stupid?”
Morris glared at him, closing the door as Jerry reached up and flicked the light switch off. “What the hell? We came all this way but we’re not going in?”
Jerry searched the street carefully before turning back to Morris. “What the hell were you gonna do, walk up to the front door and ring the bell at eleven o’clock at night?”
“Sounds good to me.” Morris’s face was hot. He kept one hand on the door handle. “Sheila’s in there. I need to talk to her. I need to see her face and make sure she’s okay.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if she is okay?” Jerry said. “It’s likely she’s in there because she wants to be, Morris. She wasn’t struggling on the tape. She was sleeping.”
“Or passed out from drugs or something.”
“That’s a stretch.” Jerry’s frown deepened. “You’re jumping to conclusions, my friend. For all we know, she and Wolfe are still having an affair. There’s nothing to suggest he hurt her. Or that he would hurt her. From what I could see, she wasn’t harmed.”
“Now who’s stupid?” Morris said, huffy. “You saw her on the tape going in. I haven’t heard from her in three weeks. What if that guy’s done something to her? Did you see her come back out?”
“No, but-”
Morris opened the door again. This time the car stayed dark.
“Morris, please.” The urgency in Jerry’s voice caused Morris to stop. “Listen to me for one second.” Jerry reached across and closed the passenger door firmly. “We can’t just bust in. You’re not thinking this through.”
“You’re a civilian. You don’t need a warrant.”
“I’m a civilian so I can’t get a warrant, blowhole.” Jerry was exasperated. “Which has nothing to do with anything. Whoever the guy is that drove her here, Sheila was seen talking to him. Flirting with him. I know you don’t want to hear that, but that’s what we know. You ring the bell and start harassing people, especially at this time of night, they’ll call the cops and arrest you. Do you get that?”
Morris gritted his teeth so hard his gums ached. “Jerry, every bone in my body is telling me that Sheila is inside that house right now. I need to talk to her and ask her to come home. She might not like that I’m here-she might slam the door in my face because she wants to be with that goddamned kid-but I can’t go back home without knowing. And if we have to wrestle before you let me out of this goddamned car, so be it.” Morris’s breath was coming out so fast, the windows of the Honda were fogging up. “You’re a big guy, but I was offensive lineman All-American for four fucking years and I will take you out if I have to.”
Jerry stared at Morris for a full three seconds. Then he burst out laughing.
He laughed so hard tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, glistening in the streetlights that shone through the windows. “I’m sorry,” Jerry said, gasping. He threw up a hand, struggling to control his laughter. Then he started all over again. “You should see the look on your face. ‘Take me out’? Jesus Christ, that was funny.”
Morris didn’t see the humor. “You finished, asshole? I meant what I said.”
“I could take you.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
Jerry shook his head as his laughter subsided. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Morris said, pushing down the door handle again.
Jerry placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” His voice was gentle. “Just wait. Give me five minutes. Let me call Torrance. At least let him know we’re here, in case something goes wrong. Hell, it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince him to reopen the case based on the tape. Sheila was with a strange man the night she was last seen, possibly drugged, as you said. Who knows, it could be grounds for a search.” He looked dubious, but he flipped open his cell phone anyway. “Just calm down and give me five stinking minutes.”
Morris sat back in his seat and made a show of checking his watch. “Four minutes fifty-five seconds,” he said, but only because it made him feel better.
Ethan watched the black Honda Accord from a window at the front of the house, peering between two curtains. He knew they couldn’t see him; all his lights were off and the house was dark. The car door had opened for a second, illuminating two faces in heated discussion. Then it had closed again.
His instincts told him they weren’t coming inside. Not tonight, anyway. The PI was an ex-cop, and no doubt he was explaining to Morris right now that they had no cause, no justification.
Ethan turned away from the window and walked back toward the basement door. It bolted automatically behind him.
If they wanted to come after him, they’d have to shoot their way in.
CHAPTER 35
J erry spoke in serious tones before finally hanging up the phone. Morris had been listening to one side of the conversation and needed no explanation.
“This is bullshit and you know it,” Morris fumed, his hand back on the passenger door. “You both have your heads up your asses. I knew Torrance wasn’t gonna help.” He was out of the car before Jerry could stop him.
Morris dashed across the street, crossing Wolfe’s front yard in five long strides, and rang the doorbell without hesitating.
Nobody answered. He rang the bell again, holding his ear to the door. Unable to make out any sounds or movements from inside the house, he rang the bell once again and listened to the echo of the chime within. Frustrated, he pounded on the thick door with his fist.
A light went on in the house next door.
Jerry had been hovering on the sidewalk, seemingly unwilling to set foot on Wolfe’s property. But when Morris shouted at full volume, Jerry was on the porch in three seconds.
“Sheila!” Morris bellowed, banging on Wolfe’s door several more times. His deep baritone rang out in the sleeping neighborhood.
“All right, all right.” Jerry grabbed Morris’s arm. “Enough!”
“Go to hell.” Morris wrangled his arm away while continuing to bang on the door with his other fist. “Sheila!”
Jerry made a move to grab Morris’s other arm. Before Morris could stop himself, his clenched fist socked the private investigator right in the eye.
Jerry fell backward over the steps and onto the wet grass. He landed on his ass, legs splaying out awkwardly in front of him, pants hiking up to expose white athletic socks stuck into black running shoes.
“Aw fuck,” Jerry said, his hand at his face. “You ass. I can’t believe you hit me.”
Morris stared at Jerry in horror, the knuckles on his right hand aching from where he’d struck hard orbital bone. He staggered down the porch steps and reached out a hand. “Jesus Christ, man. I’m sorry.”
Jerry touched his eye gingerly with one finger and ignored him. Even in the dim light, Morris could see the man’s face scrunched up in pain. Morris felt a wave of shame roll over him.
The sound of a door opening caught the attention of both men.
An elderly lady stepped out onto the front porch of the house next door. She was dressed in a long flannel nightgown, her hair in rollers and tucked under some kind of net cap. Bony arms crossed defiantly over her chest, and her eyes darted back and forth between Jerry and Morris. “What’s going on out here?” Her voice was shrill. “I’ve called security!”
As if on cue, a small, white car with a familiar green logo pulled up. Henry the security guard stepped out. He shone his flashlight at Wolfe’s house.
“What’s going on, guys?” Henry kept his voice low, but another light flickered on from a house across the street. “I’ve received a noise complaint.”