Lie To Her (Bree Taggert #6)(8)

Bree peered over his shoulder. “Avery said she met him through a different site.”
“Plenty of online daters use multiple apps.”
Bree frowned. “Avery thought he might be The One for her. If Spencer was actively seeking more dates, maybe he didn’t share that sentiment.”
“The app logged him out, so I can’t see his account.” Matt closed the laptop, then scanned the delicate wineglasses and general tidiness of the space. “No sign of a struggle in here.”
“And we’d know if anything was out of place. This guy was particular about his space.” Bree pointed to a drawer she’d just opened.
Acrylic organizers separated pencils from pens from paper clips. Writing implements all pointed in the same direction. She moved to another drawer. “That’s weird. This one is empty.”
Matt opened cabinets. “Half his cabinets are empty too. He has the basics, but not the amount of equipment I would expect with this fancy kitchen setup.”
“Maybe the renovation is recent.”
“Or he ran out of money.”
Bree opened the fridge. “His condiments are lined up by bottle height with all the labels facing the same direction.”
“That’s beyond neat.”
“After living on a farm with two kids, a big dog, and a cat, I find this level of organization disturbing.”
They walked through the rest of the first floor, finding nothing that looked out of place.
“Let’s try the upstairs.” Bree led the way to the second floor.
The first bedroom was a home office. Matt checked the desk drawers. “Not much in here. Plans for his kitchen renovation, receipts. A few bills. Aha. Here’s a collection notice.” He riffled through a neat stack of papers in a drawer. “And another one.”
Bree opened the closet. “There’s a fire safe in here. He might keep his important records in that. We’ll have to get someone to open it.”
Matt ducked into the next room. “This is strange.” Glass tanks in varying sizes lined shelves. The tanks were outfitted like mini habitats with branches, water bowls, and heat lamps for the reptiles that occupied them.
Bree followed him in. “Turtles, lizards . . . what is that?” She pointed to a tank on the end.
“A snake.”
Bree sighed and shot him a Really? look. “What kind? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He leaned in to get a better view. About three or so feet long and slender, the snake was mostly white with scattered red scales. He pulled out his phone. “Google says it’s a Palmetto corn snake. It seems corn snakes are friendly, easy to care for, and popular as pets. This one is rare because of its color.”
Bree’s face did not approve.
“It’s harmless and kind of cute,” Matt said.
Bree scanned the tanks below it. “There are five of them.”
“This could be a hobby or a side business,” Matt suggested.
She stopped in front of an empty space on the middle shelf. “What do you think of these empty spaces? Looks like three tanks were removed.”
“He could have sold some animals.” Matt leaned closer. “But the surface is very dusty, and the rest of the house is spotless. Feels like he would have dusted the shelf if he had the time.”
“Maybe he’s been busy with work.” Bree opened the closet. “Gross.”
“What?” Matt walked to her and peered over her shoulder. The closet was fitted with industrial shelves lined with containers of turtle pellets, live crickets, and mealworms.
A small chest freezer squatted on the other side of the closet. “Not sure I want to open this.” She lifted the lid, then quickly let it drop. “Ugh.”
“What?”
She raised the lid again and turned her head to read a label. “Pinkies.” She grimaced. “Baby mice.” Her gaze shifted. “There are larger mice and rats too.”
“Snake food.”
“Yeah.” Bree shivered. “Not a fan.”
Matt shrugged. “Personally, I prefer furry animals, but lots of people keep snakes as pets. Most of them are completely harmless, even beneficial.”
Bree waved a hand. “I know they keep the rodent population in check. I wouldn’t want to hurt one. But I also don’t want to hug one.”
Matt surveyed the space. “Since it appears three habitats are missing, the most likely conclusion is that the animals were either stolen, sold, or died. But we should keep an eye out, just in case.”
Bree stopped cold. Searching the floor, she made a noise he couldn’t quite identify, but she didn’t sound happy. They stepped into the primary bedroom.
“Someone will have to care for Spencer’s animals,” Matt said.
“I’ll call animal control.” Bree turned right. “I’ll take the bathroom.”
Matt crossed the pale gray carpet to stand by the bed. A wallet sat on the nightstand, next to an iPad. He took a picture, then picked up the wallet and thumbed through it. “Cash and credit cards are still in his wallet.”
Bree poked her head out of the bathroom and frowned. “I found a two-year-old bottle of Vicodin in the medicine chest. More than twenty pills are left.”
“So it’s unlikely he was a drug addict. And this wasn’t a burglary gone wrong unless the stolen items were rare reptiles.” Matt closed the wallet. Cash, drugs, and electronics were the most commonly stolen household items.
“Gunshots or blunt force trauma say burglary gone wrong. Plastic wrap around the head feels personal.” Bree ducked back into the bathroom.