CHAPTER SIX
Palmer had driven by Victoria's small townhouse countless times during his time in the city. It was the sort of home you overlooked, a carbon copy of the many that surrounded it—not just on the block on which it sat, but for all residences within the next half mile or so along the street. It was quite different now, of course. Currently, it was roped off with crime scene tape. A single cop stood at the edge of the shallow porch, nodding to Palmer and Camille as they approached.
“The call I got said there’s no body,” Palmer said. “Is that right?”
“That’s right. Looks like a break-in, but I’ll be damned if I can see where anything was taken.”
Other than Victoria Hudson, maybe, Palmer thought.
Even before approaching the door, the signs of a break-in were apparent. The front
