Read Her Stolen Son for Free Online Page B

filled with geraniums and impatiens flanked both sides of the patio.
    He stooped and dug beneath the first one but found nothing. Three more pots and his hand closed around the key. Using it to let himself in, he paused to listen for sounds. Any indication that Petey was inside.
    The ticktock of a clock somewhere in the house echoed in the silence along with the low hum of the refrigerator and air conditioner.
    â€œPetey, it’s Colt.”
    Not wanting to frighten the kid if he was here, he inched his way inside, then moved slowly across the room and flipped on a light. “Petey, if you’re here, please come out. I promise I’m not going to take you back to the manor.”
    Nothing.
    He crept into the den and switched on a lamp, blinking at the sudden brightness. The room was painted a pale yellow with a dark green couch and comfy chairs situated around a fireplace. Children’s books and toys occupied one corner. Family photographs decorated a far wall. He paused to study one of Petey and his dad, and his gut tightened. Serena had said her husband was killed in the line of duty.
    Old instincts kicked in. Police work was dangerous. Had her husband’s killer been arrested? Had his killer decided to come after Serena and Petey for some reason?
    If so, could it be related to Rice’s murder, and the fact that Serena had been conveniently framed?
    He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he was making a wild jump, but it might be worth looking into.
    He glanced at the room that opened to the right and realized it was Serena’s office. A neat desk, filing cabinet, computer.
    But no Petey.
    Across the other side a small hallway led to two bedrooms. He flipped on a hall light and veered into the first one. The room was painted a warm red with a white comforter and red-and-white striped curtains. Obviously Serena’s room. “Petey, are you here, bud? If you are, please come out and talk to me. I want to help you.”
    The floor squeaked as he knelt and checked under the bed, then he searched the closet and bathroom. All empty.
    Damn. One more room.
    Petey’s. Maybe the kid was hiding in there. He entered it, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Bunk bed with a superhero bedspread, toy chest, action figures, a soccer ball.
    â€œPetey?”
    But he knew instinctively Petey was not there. Still, he threw open the closet door. Toys and clothes overflowed the shelves and a red fire engine sat on the floor.
    He closed the door, but as he started to leave the room, another picture of Petey and his dad caught his eye. Petey’s father was tall with brown hair and had his arm slung around the boy, but in this photo he wasn’t as clean-cut. His hair looked scraggly and long, and hesported a beard. Something about the look in the man’s eyes and his appearance seemed familiar.
    Like an undercover cop.
    He should know. He’d let his hair grow long and used beards, mustaches, tattoos, anything necessary to fit in with the scum he was supposed to be part of.
    Curious about Parker Stover, he hurried into Serena’s office to look for more information on him, then dug through her file cabinet, but everything inside pertained to her business.
    Had she thrown her husband’s things away?
    He had noticed a door in the hallway and wondered where it led. Maybe an attic.
    A great hiding place for a little boy.
    Spurned by adrenaline now, he flipped on the light and climbed the stairs. A few old pieces of furniture were stored in a corner, an antique chair, another bed, boxes of clothes and toys Petey had probably outgrown were crammed against another wall.
    On the opposite side beneath the window sat an old trunk. Just big enough for Petey to crawl inside.
    He crossed the room and opened it, hoping Petey was inside. Two worn blankets covered the top, then a lump.
    â€œPetey?”
    He felt beneath it, but his hand connected with a duffel bag instead of a child.
    Frowning, he yanked it out