“How’d you fare?” Brantley asked when Reese returned to the SUV after they’d completed their door knocks.
“Nothin’. Two houses, no one answered, no cars in the driveway. One, the woman said she works the night shift, didn’t get home until after seven. The last one, a little old couple invited me in for coffee cake. I politely declined, and they assured me they hadn’t been outside yet today. No one has cameras directed that way, if they have them at all. You get anything?”
“Nope.” Brantley relaxed against the seat, resting his hands on the steering wheel. “Trey messaged me, said they’re still talkin’ to the husband, tryin’ to get a list of her friends.”
“Gotta start somewhere. In the meantime, I think lunch is in order,” Reese said with a heavy exhale. “Give us some time to talk, pool our thoughts, and hear what the husband had to say.”
The mere mention of food had Brantley’s stomach rumbling. “Let me know where we’re goin’, then text Trey and have ’em meet us there when they’re done.”
Brantley drove, his thoughts scattered. This was always the daunting part of the investigation. Where to begin when there was someone out there, possibly injured, scared, fighting for their life. The thought of taking time for lunch felt like abandonment on his part. He could still remember the time he spent during that op gone sideways. Alone in that room beneath the house in the middle of a hot zone. Right before the place caved in on him. He’d feared his team wouldn’t come, wouldn’t be able to reach him. They hadn’t known where he was, if he was even alive, yet he’d held out hope that someone would make the effort. He never should’ve doubted because they wouldn’t leave a man behind.
What was Jody Henderson thinking? That she prayed her husband went looking? That he called the police? Surely she knew he would. Based on the minimal information Trey had relayed, Dale Henderson was beside himself with fear.
“There’s an all-you-can-eat buffet just down the road,” Reese said from beside him.
Brantley glanced over. “Hmm?”
“Lunch.”
Oh, right. Lunch. All you can eat.
“About two miles down on the left,” Reese directed, then began tapping out a text on his phone.
While Reese was still texting, Brantley’s cell phone rang. He hit the button on the steering wheel to take the call through the speakers.
“Hey, JJ,” he greeted.
“Y’all find anything yet?”
Brantley hated to dash the hope in her voice, but he answered with a glum, “No.”
“Well, I’ve been doin’ some research on my end,” she explained. “I pulled together the details of the women Detective Collins said were missing. Did a side-by-side comparison.”
“We already know they look nothing alike,” he told her.
“No, they don’t. And that’s not all that’s different. In fact, the only similarity is the proximity to the lake that they lived. Same general area. Anyway, as you know, Jody Henderson’s a stay-at-home mom.”
“Yes.”
“She’s thirty-two, married, with six kids,” she continued.
Beside him, Reese was writing down the information she was rattling off.
There was a soft chuckle. “I’ll shoot it to you, Reese. You don’t have to write it down.”
Reese looked up, peered around the truck as though he expected to find a camera. It was enough to have Brantley grinning.
“Then you’ve got Maria Espinoza,” JJ continued, “twenty years old, student, no spouse, still lives at home with her parents and two younger siblings. Shelly Masters, forty-three years old, registered nurse, divorced single mom to two little boys. And last but certainly not least, Debbie Struthers, twenty-nine, junior partner at a prestigious law firm, lives with one female roommate.”
“What you’re sayin’ is they couldn’t be more different.”
“From that angle, no,” JJ said. “Different race, height, weight, shape, marital status. They’re a very diverse group of women.”
“What do they have in common besides their relatively close addresses and their jogging patterns?” Brantley asked.
“Children.”
Frowning, he glanced at Reese, then back out the window as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.
Reese skimmed his finger down the notepad he was holding. “You just said two of them don’t have children.”
“They don’t. But they live with people who do. Maria Espinoza has two younger siblings, and Debbie Struthers’s roommate has a three-year-old daughter.”
“You think he’s somehow connected to these kids?”
“I think it’s possible,” JJ said. “But I haven’t had a chance to dig into everything yet.”
“Well, keep diggin’. We’re gonna stop for lunch, meet up with Trey and Baz, see what they found out from the husband.”
“Okay. Keep me in the loop.”
“Hey, JJ?” Reese said before she could disconnect.
“Yeah?”
“How’s Tesha?”
Brantley couldn’t stop his smile. He loved how much Reese loved that dog.
Her voice softened. “She’s doin’ great. She’s here with me right now. We went outside a little while ago. I’ll send over a pic.”
“Not necessary, but thanks.”
“Anytime. Talk to y’all in a bit.”
The picture came through a couple of minutes later and yes, it made Reese smile, which in turn made Brantley.
A good half hour later, Brantley was sitting at a table with Reese, Trey, and Baz, the four of them finishing up their second and third helpings of food.
How was it you could go to an all-you-can-eat and always attempt to eat until you puke? Well, everyone except for Reese. He was the one who mentioned the place and he never ventured anywhere except for the salad bar.
Reese was telling Trey and Baz about JJ’s theory that the missing women were somehow tied to this man through the kids.
“According to the husband,” Baz said, “that’s a good possibility. He said Jody spends a tremendous amount of time carting the kids around to various functions. Dance class, violin and piano lessons, painting, karate. You name it, I think their kids are doin’ it.”
“What about the social scene?” Reese asked. “Do they take the kids any one specific place?”
Trey spoke up. “Like those trampoline places or bounce house things?”
Brantley stared at his brother.
“What? I’ve taken Meghan, Ashley, and Eric a couple of times,” he admitted, referring to their nieces and nephews.
Reese was jotting the information down. “The only way we’ll find out is to talk to the families of the other victims.”
“I can tell you, Mr. Henderson won’t be much help,” Baz told him. “He seemed clueless as to where Jody took the kids. At least specifically. I got the feelin’ he spends a lot of time at work and she takes care of everything else.”
“Like the house,” Trey inserted. “Holy shit. If it weren’t for the fact she was into workin’ out, I would’ve thought she was a Stepford wife.”
“One thing that bothered me,” Baz noted, “was the fact Mr. Henderson said no one but an officer had been by to talk to him.”
Brantley frowned. “Not Collins?”
“He said he called the police and they sent an officer out, but they told him they’d be in touch. We were the first to make face-to-face since.”
Reese leaned back. “Maybe Collins is overloaded, had the uniform go out in his place.”
“Maybe.” Baz appeared disturbed ty the idea. “But his top priority should be the hot case. It’s true what they say about the first forty-eight hours. That’s critical time to piece together clues.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. I say we split up the families of the other victims,” Brantley suggested, “go pay them a visit, see if they might be able to provide some puzzle pieces. Then we’ll split up Jody’s list of friends, reach out to them, see if they can shed any light.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Trey and Baz said at the same time.
Reese merely offered a nod of his head.
And now they had their next step.
***
“You know, Tesha, it’d probably be good to have some warm bodies in this place,” JJ told the dog as she stared at her computer screen. “Seems a little too quiet without them here, doesn’t it?”
She probably should’ve felt strange to be talking to a dog, but considering there was no one else to talk to, or to overhear, she didn’t much care. Plus, Tesha was a damn good listener. Especially after she’d ventured over to the house, retrieved one of three dog beds Brantley and Reese had stashed in different rooms, and relocated it to her new loft office. Three. Seriously. They’d had Tesha a week and she was already spoiled.
However, she did seem content with the bed. Ever since they returned, she’d been snoozing away beside her. Every so often, Tesha would open an eye, peek up at her as though to ensure she was still there.
“Too bad I had to reschedule the interviews,” she told him. “But it’s probably smart to have someone around when I invite a stranger here, huh?”
JJ stared at her computer screen, at the images of the four women who’d gone missing. They were all attractive, albeit a little plain, but there wasn’t a single thing about them that was similar. So what did they have in common? Besides the fact they all liked to jog and there were children that resided in their orbit. How would this person—because yes, it could still be a woman as far as she was concerned—come in contact with them and know they all utilized the same jogging path? That was the key, she knew. Something about the jogging path. Or the location as a whole.
As she stared, her cell phone rang, startling both her and the dog.
“Shit,” she mumbled to Tesha. “Sorry, honey. I’ll turn the ringer down. Hello.”
“Hey,” she greeted Baz.
The deep, resonant voice on the other end somehow managed to soothe her nerves. It was almost instant, too, something she wasn’t used to.
“Hey. Sorry, I don’t have anything else on—”
“I’m callin’ to check on you, JJ. Not about the case.”
“Oh.” She smiled, relaxed in her comfy chair. “I’m fine. Me and Tesha are just hangin’ out. I hear you’ve partnered up with Trey.”
“Yep.”
“What do you think? He gonna cut it?”
“Yeah. Takes him some time to warm up, but I think he’ll be fine once he’s been doin’ this for a while. But he’s honest about it. That’s the key.”
“He’s a good guy,” she told Baz. “Solid.”
He chuckled, the soft rumble making her belly clench. “That’s the same thing he said about you.”
“Really?” They had talked about her? “I love Trey.”
“Hey, now.”
She giggled. “He’s gay, remember? I’m not his type.”
“Today,” he stated. “Who knows what tomorrow might bring?”
“You know it’s not a choice, right?”
“Have you met Reese?”
JJ laughed. “He’s an anomaly.”
“I was hopin’ to take you out tonight.”
His comment caught her off guard, but it brought another smile to her face. Perhaps it was because he was so far away that she realized how much she missed him being around.
“Rain check.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
He would, she knew.
Her body suddenly warmed as she remembered the kiss they’d shared, the way his work-rough hands had slipped beneath her T-shirt, sliding sensually over her skin.
“JJ? You okay?”
Shit. She was breathing heavily.
“Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat. “Great.”
“How ’bout I call you tonight? We can talk more.”
“I’d like that.”
And she realized she really, really would.
Provided she could keep the call PG. God only knew what she was capable of when it came to Sebastian Buchanan.
Ugh.
***
“Where’re we headed?” Brantley asked once they’d made it back to the SUV after lunch.
“I got an answer from Debbie Struthers’s mother,” Reese told him. “I think she was surprised to get my call. Said she’s been waiting tirelessly since her daughter went missing on March eighteenth.”
“She hasn’t heard from anyone?”
“According to her, no. She’s left messages for the detective and he’s left a couple in return, but they’ve never actually spoken.”
Brantley glanced over at him. “Are you tellin’ me she hasn’t spoken to Detective Collins face-to-face?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Hmm.” Brantley steered the truck out onto the road. “I think that’s somethin’ we have to look into.”
“Agree. Maybe we can stop by and chat with the detective after.”
Brantley nodded.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, Brantley following the directions provided by the navigation system. While Debbie Struthers lived in a house near the lake, her mother resided roughly thirty minutes north of her daughter.
The neighborhood they pulled into wasn’t anything fancy. In fact, it looked a bit run down, the houses older, the cars, too. It gave the impression it was a street occupied mostly by renters rather than owners.
“This is it,” he said, pointing to a single-story tan brick house with dark brown trim and an inset porch.
There were bushes lining the front of the house, covering all the windows. The grass had seen better days, withering but not only from the cold spells they’d had lately. The sidewalk was cracked and broken, as was the walkway leading up to the house.
At the door, Brantley took the lead, ringing the doorbell and taking a step back.
It didn’t take long for the door to be answered by a woman who was quite a bit younger than Brantley had expected. Debbie Struthers showed to be twenty-nine years old, and he figured her mother was barely over fifty. She was a tiny woman with dark skin and dark hair that she wore brushed into a bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were a little wide, her lips a little small, and she looked none too happy to see them.
Brantley held up his credentials and Reese followed suit, then they were let into the house, the door closing behind them.
It was a dark space, no light in the wide hallway.
The place was relatively clean. Not spotless and not cluttered but there were a couple of dishes sitting on various surfaces, some books stacked in the corner, the fireplace screen crooked where it sat on the hearth.
“We can talk in here,” Mrs. Struthers said.
Reese followed them into a dining room on the right. There was a table in the center of the space, two windows high up on the far wall, a door that appeared to lead into the kitchen on the left.
He was about to sit when he noticed a huge corkboard mounted on the other wall. Pinned to it were various pictures, the missing poster that had likely been distributed when Debbie first went missing.
“I’ve done quite a bit of work,” Mrs. Struthers noted. “Figured since the police won’t do anything, someone had to.”
Reese noticed the hostility in her tone, couldn’t really blame her.
“Do you mind?” he asked, motioning toward the board.
“Not at all.”
While Brantley and Mrs. Struthers sat down at the table, Reese took stock of what was on the board. There were pictures of the lake and the surrounding areas, one of what looked to be the crime scene photo showing Debbie’s cell phone and headphones.
“Mrs. Struthers, could you tell me when the last time you spoke to Detective John Collins was?”
“Please call me Alicia,” she said softly, then sighed. “It would’ve been probably a week after Debbie went missing. I called him. He must’ve been having an off day because he actually answered the phone.”
“Have you spoken to him in person? At the station, maybe?”
Reese glanced over to see her reaction.
Mrs. Struthers was frowning. “I tried. Three times. I was always told he was out and it would be best to reach him by telephone.”
Reese did not like the sound of that. Granted, he wasn’t a police officer, but he couldn’t imagine the detectives were never available to speak one on one with the families of the victims they were working for. He would have to ask Baz about that.
While Brantley began asking questions pertaining to the day Debbie disappeared, Reese turned back to the board on the wall. He noticed what looked to be red yarn was strung from one pin to another in a couple of places. If he was correct, Mrs. Struthers was noting that those two things connected somehow. As much as he admired all the work she had done, there really wasn’t much to go on.
He was about to turn around and take a seat when he noticed a piece of paper peeking out from beneath another one. He lifted the top one to read what it was.
Police report. Dated March fourth of this year.
“Ma’am?” Reese glanced back at her, tapped a finger on the paper. “Can you tell me what this is?”
“It’s the police report my daughter filed.”
“It says it was filed two weeks before her disappearance.”
Mrs. Struthers nodded but she appeared disappointed. “Can’t find that it’s relevant, but I figured it was worth noting.”
Reese read the complaint and he wasn’t so sure that was an accurate assessment.
“Would you mind if I took a picture of this?” he asked.
“Go right ahead.”
Since she gave him the go-ahead, he took a picture of the page, then several pictures of the entire board.
He hoped like hell it would give them some sort of clue they could follow.
After spending the afternoon talking to the distraught families of the other victims and three of the four friends of Jody Henderson’s from their list, Reese was glad to be at a hotel. He needed time to process what he’d learned, but more importantly, he needed a minute to come back to himself. He’d spent all that time putting himself in the shoes of those women and their loved ones, experiencing the hell they’d been going through for so long.
“You okay?” Brantley asked, stepping out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, steam billowing out from behind him.
“I will be.” Reese peered up. “Does it feel wrong to be sittin’ here? While those women are missin’?”
“Of course it does.” Brantley walked around, leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. “But what other choice do we have? Stayin’ up all night won’t get us anywhere. We need to start fresh in the mornin’.”
Yeah, he knew that. He did.
Brantley dropped his arms, planted his palms on the dresser. The move had the muscles in his chest flexing, his abs contracting. There were drops of water trickling down over the planes and angles, mesmerizing Reese momentarily. Funny how he was so easily distracted by this man.
“I told Trey and Baz I’d meet them down in the bar for a drink. You wanna join us?”
Reese forced his gaze to Brantley’s face. “What?”
“Bar? Drink?”
“Yeah, sure. In a little while. I’ll shower, meet you down there.”
Reese could see the concern in Brantley’s eyes, but he simply nodded, then reached for his bag, retrieving clothes. While Brantley got dressed, Reese went into the bathroom, turned on the shower.
He let the hot water beat down on him while he focused on breathing, clearing his mind. It didn’t take long before he felt more like himself. The moment he stepped into the empty room, he realized he really did want to go down and have a drink with Brantley. Hell, he just wanted to be where Brantley was. Especially at a time like this.
The heater kicked on, rattling the metal grate that covered it, and the sound was so loud in the otherwise silent room it made him flinch. He was instantly taken back to a different place, a similar sound that had ground through his brain for months on end. A generator, not a heater. Endless noise. It had run constantly, powering the tents that had surrounded the concrete cell buried partially below ground that he’d been forced to live in. It’d been no more than six by six, and he’d spent months waiting and hoping, praying like hell he wasn’t forgotten.
His brain kicked him back to the present, to the hotel room. Reese took deep, cleansing breaths, forcing the memories away, willing his heart to stop the drumbeat in his chest.
Shaking off the memory, praying a nightmare didn’t follow tonight, Reese snagged clothes from his bag.
After dressing, he grabbed his cell phone and wallet, tucked them into his pockets.
He’d just stepped on the elevator when his phone buzzed. He checked it and a smile instantly came to his lips.
The picture was of Tesha, sitting obediently on the floor, staring up at the camera as though it was a treat. A text message followed: I don’t think she knows what to do without you here. She keeps searching the house like you’re playing a game.
Reese didn’t realize how attached he’d gotten to Tesha until that moment.
His phone buzzed again: I was thinking we should get her certified in search and rescue. Then you’ll have your very own four-legged partner.
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out. He was obviously grinning like a lunatic, because Brantley looked over, his brows furrowing.
They met halfway between the elevators and the bar.
“You look different than when I left you,” Brantley said in greeting.
He held up the picture to show him.
“I should’ve known. And here I thought I was the love of your life.”
“It’s a tie.”
A sharp bark of laughter escaped Brantley. “I’ll take it. But like I said before, only because I’m the one who sleeps with you every night. You want a beer? Somethin’ stronger?”
“Beer’s fine.” He had no intentions of getting drunk. And for some reason, Tesha had managed to soothe those rough edges he’d had after this hellish day.
While Brantley went up to the bar, Reese took a seat at the table Baz and Trey occupied. There were only six or eight more tables in the entire space and all were empty except for one other. Not a lot of business at this particular establishment, but he figured that was because it wasn’t a five-star hotel, nor was it in a hot spot for nightlife.
“You can’t be serious,” Trey was saying to Baz. “Married six times? What the fuck is wrong with him? I learned my lesson after the first.”
“Didn’t end well, huh?”
Trey shook his head, glanced over at Reese briefly before turning his attention back to Baz. “Let’s just say he wasn’t quite ready to settle down.”
“How long were you married?” Reese inquired, curious.
“The longest two and a half years of my life.”
“Ouch.” Baz took a sip of his beer. “How long ago?”
“Not long enough.”
“So you kicked Cyrus to the curb, huh?”
“More him bootin’ me, but the outcome’s all the same.”
Reese wanted to ask what had happened but held his tongue. It wasn’t his business.
“Cyrus prefers the single life,” Trey noted. “More specifically, he’s more interested in a different man every week.”
Brantley returned, passing over more beers before taking a seat beside Reese.
“Ain’t that right?” Trey asked Brantley.
“What?”
“Cyrus is better off single.”
“Sounds to me like you’re bitter,” Brantley countered.
Trey gave him the finger. “He’s takin’ a job in California.”
“He’s not the sort to settle down, but I figured you knew that. It was your reason for hookin’ up with him in the first place. No strings,” Brantley said without heat. “You can do better than Cyrus.”
“Trust me, I intend to. A hundred times over,” Trey grumbled, leaning back and taking a long pull on his beer.
The conversation shifted to work, about the plans for tomorrow, thoughts about the detective on the case, and was it possible they’d be home for Thanksgiving. After two beers, Reese was relaxed enough he was ready for sleep, so he excused himself up to the room with Brantley not far behind.
When Brantley crawled into bed beside him, Reese turned his way, found him in the dark. Their mouths melded together, tongues exploring as the temperature in the room soared. And when Brantley urged him onto his stomach, Reese went willingly, eager to feel him, to be one with him.
“I love bein’ inside you,” Brantley breathed against his neck. “Let me have you, Reese.”
“Always.”
After some preparation, Brantley twined their fingers and pinned him to the mattress, pushing in deep, filling him slowly. Reese relaxed, accepting Brantley inside him, loving how perfect he felt with this man. Complete. Whole. Something he’d never known before. Not until Brantley.
They moved together for long minutes as the pleasure soared to a crescendo.
Brantley nipped his shoulder, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper. “I’m gonna come, Reese. Oh, fuck.” He grunted and groaned, then rocked into him one final time.
When Brantley pulled out, Reese rolled to his back, gripped his cock in his fist, and jerked roughly. Brantley’s hand slid up his thigh, his finger brushing his balls, and Reese lost it. He came with Brantley’s name on his lips.