Chapter Seventeen #2
Becs put the address into the navigation on the phone and got the directions. Although the silence was suffocating, she settled into her routine and pretended she had nothing to say to the man who’d given her hope for the first time in a very long time and yanked it away almost in the same breath.
Brantley sat with his arm resting on the steering wheel.
“This is a bust,” he told Reese when it was clear Martin Calloway was not at work on a Sunday.
“Probably.” Reese sounded distracted, his attention still fixed on his computer screen, where it had been for the past hour and a half, ever since they pulled into the parking lot across the street from the FBI headquarters.
Unable to take it any longer, he leaned toward Reese to see the screen. “What are you lookin’ at?”
“Atticus sent this photo over. There’s a year—2006—and a name—Cicily Rose—on the back. He thinks Meredith and Decker had a kid.”
“Did someone bother to ask them?”
“Yeah. Becs and Evan. She said they didn’t confirm or deny, but both were visibly upset when they realized she had the picture.”
Interesting. “Did you figure out who she is?”
“I need JJ to do some digging. I can’t even find a birth certificate.”
“Maybe they put her up for adoption,” Brantley suggested.
“That’s my assumption, too.”
While Brantley was waiting for Reese to say more, his phone rang. He saw Baz’s name on the screen and answered. “Tell me you’ve got some good news.”
“Depends on how you define good.”
“Anything that will move this case forward at this point.”
“I spoke to Dr. Weaver.”
“And?”
The pause that ensued was nearly deafening.
“He told me that the federal government paid him five hundred thousand dollars to fake the death of a federal witness.”
It was a damn good thing Brantley wasn’t driving. He was positive he stopped breathing.
“Kylie’s alive?” Reese asked.
“According to Dr. Weaver, she was alive that day. He gave me the card of the agent he worked with. It was Calloway.”
“What do you mean she was alive that day?” Brantley asked.
“When I pressed him for details, he told me that her condition wasn’t stable, but they insisted on moving her anyway. They assured him she would be taken to another medical facility.”
“Any chance he got a name?”
“Home and Hearth Nursing and Rehabilitation,” Baz answered. “But before you ask, JJ already looked it up. It doesn’t exist.”
“Fuck.”
“Dr. Weaver did say that he emphasized how critical it was that they get her settled. He said Calloway asked if she could endure a ride to Dallas. He told him no.”
“He kept her down there?” Brantley mused.
“I don’t know. I also went by the funeral home.
Talked to the director. He, too, got a lump sum on that day.
He tried to lie to me about it, but finally admitted he was paid to inform the family they shouldn’t view the body because of the condition it was in.
Also told me there is no body in the casket. ”
Son of a bitch.
“Hold on. JJ wants to talk.”
“Hey,” she said. “Let me put it on speaker, just a sec.”
Brantley waited patiently.
“Okay. The card Dr. Weaver gave Baz has a number on it. I pulled it up. It’s a cell phone. Not government-issued.”
“Let me guess. It’s a burner.”
“It is. But get this. It’s still active. I was able to ping its last location.”
“Tell me it’s in Dallas.”
“It wasn’t the last time it was turned on six days ago. It pinged a cell tower near Johnson City.”
“That’s south of Austin,” Brantley told her.
“It is. About fifty miles southwest. Sixty-five miles north of San Antonio. And it’s also the same location where Charlie found credit card charges for Allison.”
Definitely not a coincidence.
Brantley sighed. “Which means we’re now too far north.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s there,” Reese said.
JJ’s tone was crestfallen. “No, it doesn’t.”
“It might not pinpoint anything, but it’s more than we had a few minutes ago,” he told them, refusing to give up. “Have you given this information to Atticus and Archer?”
“I did. Just a few minutes ago. Atticus called to check in, said they’re updating their data, wanted to get a feel for where everyone was at.”
Brantley had to admire the kid.
“All right. Let me call Atticus,” Brantley told them. “See what he wants to do.”
“I know Dallas seems logical, since Calloway lives and works up there,” Baz said. “But if he has her, I don’t think he’d want to keep her close to home.”
Probably not. Then again, Brantley had no idea what the bastard was thinking.
“Let us talk to Atticus. We’ll get back to you.”
“Talk to you later,” JJ said before ending the call.
“Call Atticus. Find out where they are.” He put the truck in gear. “Tell him we’re headin’ back to the hotel.”
While Reese took care of that, Brantley drove. He was glad he only had to navigate this area on a Sunday. He couldn’t imagine what it was like on a weekday. The overabundance of people and traffic made him homesick for his small town.
He smiled. It was funny how different he was now than he had been when the Navy sent him on his way.
He’d spent the majority of his adult life following direction, going wherever he was told.
He hadn’t had a solid place to land, and he’d been okay with that.
Then he came back to Coyote Ridge, met Reese, fell in love, and found that he liked being in one place, near family.
“They’re at the hotel. We’ll meet them in their room.”
With an agenda, Brantley focused on the road in front of him.