“We have the security camera feed showing the bomber in action.” Lance lifted his phone. “Unfortunately, you can’t see his face or vehicle, but I’ll email it to you.”

“The arson investigator and bomb squad are still working the scene. I’ll let you know when we have answers.”

“Can we go inside?” Morgan asked.

The fire chief looked back at the duplex. “The explosion was limited in scope. There’s no structural damage, except to the porch. We’ve roped off the front porch and lawn. Forensics needs to comb the grass. Stay off the lawn and use a different door.”

Lance and Morgan left the Jeep at the end of the street and walked back to the office. They stood on the sidewalk and stared at the gaping hole in the front porch.

“And how is this tied to Olivia’s disappearance?” The afternoon waned, and the shadow of the building fell over Morgan. She shivered. “Is this a warning?”

“I think it’s a good bet that our investigation provoked this attack.” Lance pointed to the blackened porch. “But who did we trigger?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Slow down.” In the passenger seat of the unmarked sedan, Sharp scanned the side of the road. “We should see Joe Franklin’s driveway any second. There it is.”

A break in the forest marked the entrance to the property. Stella turned the vehicle, but a heavy gate barred the way. Two signs hung on the gate: BEWARE OF DOG and NO TRESPASSING. A split rail fence surrounded the property. On the other side of the gate, the driveway curved sharply to the right. The house was not visible.

“Franklin must be a very private man.” Stella lowered the window and pressed the intercom button on a kiosk alongside the driveway. No one answered. She pressed the button again but received no response.

Sharp climbed out of the car.

Stella joined him a moment later. “We can’t go around that gate without a warrant.”

Sharp wished he’d come alone. He’d be over that gate in a heartbeat. “I don’t see how we’re going to get one.”

“We need evidence. We don’t have anything even remotely close to probable cause.”

Sharp walked to both sides of the gate and tried to peer through the woods, but the trees were too thick. With most houses, a cop could walk up to the front door and knock. But the fence and locked gate created an expectation of privacy. They were stuck.

“We’ll have to come back.” Stella turned around.

Sharp hesitated. “We need to talk to Joe Franklin.”

Stella headed for her car door. “I’m sorry, Sharp, but we have to obey the law. This is private property. We cannot enter without a warrant.”

Is Olivia somewhere on the other side of that gate?

Sharp did not miss the intricacies of police procedure. Stella’s hands were tied. As soon as possible, he was coming back without her.

They climbed into the car, and Stella drove to Ronald Alexander’s house. The Olanders’ former foreman lived in a small ranch-style home not far from the dairy farm. The house was basic, no frills but well maintained.

She pulled to the curb alongside the mailbox. They got out of the vehicle and stood on the sidewalk.

The curtain shifted in the window as they approached the front door. Stella knocked, and a haggard-looking woman answered the door. Her gray-streaked hair was scraped away from her face and bound in a tight knot. She wore old jeans and dirty sneakers. Deep frown lines bracketed her mouth, and Sharp doubted the crow’s-feet around her eyes had been caused by too much smiling.

Standing in the doorway, she narrowed suspicious eyes at them. When her gaze settled on Sharp, she clutched the edges of her cardigan sweater together. When she spoke, she directed her question to Stella. “What do you want?”

“Are you Mrs. Ronald Alexander?” Stella asked.

The woman hesitated, then gave them a single small nod.

Stella flashed her badge and introduced herself and Sharp. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband.”

The woman immediately stepped backward and tried to close the door. “No. You’ll have to talk to Ronald.” Her voice and hands trembled. “He ain’t home right now.”

Sharp put a hand on the door to prevent her from closing it. “Can you tell us where he is?”

“No.” Mrs. Alexander shook her head almost violently. The whites of her eyes shone. She bowed her head and studied the tiles under her feet. “I can’t.”

Her fear was palpable.

“Thank you anyway.” Sharp lowered his hand and inclined his head in understanding. She flushed, almost looking ashamed, but fear overrode any sense of pride she might have. She closed the door, and the dead bolt slid home with a loud click.

Stella and Sharp turned away from the house. As he reached the passenger side of the vehicle, Sharp spotted a middle-aged neighbor rolling her trash can to the curb. The neighbor gave Stella’s sedan a curious look. She didn’t hurry into her house but watched them.

“She looks talkative. Let’s get the neighborhood gossip.” Sharp led the way across the street. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m looking for Ronald Alexander.”

“Better you than me.” She lined her garbage can up with the curb. “Ronald is one miserable SOB.”

“Is that so?” Sharp asked.

The neighbor frowned at the Alexander house.

Sharp offered her a business card and introduced Stella as his associate.

“I’m Iris.” The neighbor inclined her head toward the house. “I don’t suppose she told you anything. I’m surprised she even answered the door.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I don’t think he lets her out of the house by herself.”

Sharp frowned in disapproval but didn’t comment. Iris was on a roll, and he didn’t want to interrupt.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he beats her.” She shook her head. “He’s the type.”

“Type?” Sharp prompted.

“He thinks all women should be subservient to men. Every time he sees my husband—which is rare because Fred can’t stand him—he tells him that a woman belongs in the home, and that he should teach me to stay in my place.” She barked out a laugh. “That is so not Fred. Ronald would be funny if he wasn’t so scary.”

“Scary how?” Stella asked.

“He beat the hell out of a neighbor, Larry Brown, for not picking up his dog poop. Just ran out of the house, tackled him, and started punching him in the face.” Iris shuddered. “Larry put his house up for sale as soon as he got out of the hospital. We were all hoping Ronald would move when he got out of jail, but he didn’t.”

“That’s terrible,” Stella said. “Does he frighten you?”

“Yes and no.” Iris tilted her head. “It isn’t anything he does. It’s how he looks at me. I can’t explain it, but I know he’s angry. I can feel his rage from across the street, like heat radiating off a sidewalk in August, and I haven’t done anything to him. I avoid him. If he comes out of his house, I go inside mine.” She gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “Thank goodness Fred was a linebacker for his college football team. Ronald won’t mess with him.”