Chapter Thirty-One
“That’s your phone,” Brantley muttered, his voice gravel-laced and irritated.
Reese stirred, his brain coming online as he heard the phone ring. It rang again and was accompanied by an elbow jab from Brantley.
Fumbling for the offensive device, he grabbed it from the nightstand and answered with a garbled, “Yeah?”
“Reese?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t recognize the female voice.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Who is this?”
“Allison Bogart.”
That kicked his brain into overdrive. His eyes opened. Thankfully it was dark in the room.
“We’ve been lookin’ for you,” he told her. “We have some questions.”
“I know. I have some for you, too.” Her words were rushed. “Can we meet?”
“Of course. When?”
“Two hours?”
“Okay. Where?”
“The diner. I’ll meet you there. I have to go.”
Before he could say anything more, the call ended.
“Who was that?” Brantley asked, sounding curious.
“Allison.”
“What did she want?”
“To talk. Said she’d meet us at the diner in a coupla hours.” Reese stared at his phone. “It was weird. She sounded scared.”
“Well, I would be, too, if I were workin’ for Martin Calloway.”
“No, more like … like she was out of breath from runnin’.” At least that was how it sounded to him. Then again, perhaps he’d projected it because she’d woken him up.
“Since it’s almost oh-five-hundred, maybe she is runnin’,” Brantley said as he got up. “Because that’s what we need to be doin’.”
Reese followed behind Brantley, getting up, taking care of morning business, then getting dressed. By the time he was tying his shoes, Brantley was on the front porch with Tesha, stretching.
“I’m ready,” he told Brantley when he joined them.
“Good. Let’s—” His sentence cut off when his cell phone rang.
Reese took Tesha’s leash while Brantley answered. “Yeah?”
He couldn’t hear what was said on the other end, but he could tell it was a man. Deep voice. Calm.
“Sure. We’ll be at the diner in a couple of hours. Want to meet up then?” Another brief pause before Brantley said, “All right. See you there.” Brantley ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Looks like it’s gonna be a party. Travis wants to talk.”
“You realize we’re gonna have to tell him what we know, right?”
“Yep. Probably what we should’ve done already.”
Great.
It was going to be one of those days, he could feel it.
Almost two hours exactly from the time Allison called him, Reese was sitting at a table with Brantley. Tesha was tucked up underneath by their feet, where she preferred to be. They were sipping coffee, holding off on the order until Allison and Travis arrived.
“I’m wonderin’ what questions she could possibly have for us,” Brantley said, spinning the napkin-wrapped silverware.
Reese had given him the high level of the call initially, but then ran it through almost verbatim when Brantley kept questioning him.
“I have no idea, but I’ll take it because we’ve definitely got questions for her,” Reese said, reaching over to still the spinning silverware.
Brantley looked up, grinned. “Am I gettin’ on your nerves?”
“Little bit.”
“Then let me order. Travis wouldn’t expect us to wait.”
“I’m not worried about Travis.” Reese glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes. If Allison’s not here by then, you can order.”
“I’m gonna hold you to it.”
While they waited, Reese checked his phone, skimming text messages and emails. He found the update from Atticus that came in shortly after midnight.
“Atticus and Archer drove down to Blanco last night,” he told Brantley.
“For what?”
“To check out the property for Terry Berry, one of the top-level Censorious members.”
“Terry Berry? Did his parents hate him?”
Reese ignored the question as he continued to read. “The email said they checked it out but couldn’t get eyes on the house because it’s situated too far back.” He looked up. “Atticus said it’s fifteen minutes from the house we checked out. On the same road.”
Brantley frowned. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
Reese wouldn’t think so, but with this case, anything was possible.
“Who’re you textin’?” Reese asked when Brantley pulled out his phone.
“Atticus.”
“Don’t you want to order first?”
“You order for me.”
When the waitress returned, Reese did exactly that, ordering Brantley’s usual heart attack on a plate and some egg whites with a side of fruit for himself. He knew better than to push a healthier option on Brantley when they went out. The man wasn’t above making a scene.
“Hey, man,” Brantley greeted when his phone rang a couple of minutes later. “Where are you?”
Reese couldn’t hear the response on the other end, but he continued to watch Brantley.
“We’re at the diner,” he said after a lengthy pause. “You and Archer have breakfast yet?” Short pause. “Good. Meet us here. We’ll talk.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we got a table,” Reese said when Brantley hung up.
The bells over the door chimed. Reese peered back over his shoulder at the same time Brantley said, “But I’m not sure it’s gonna be big enough.”
Definitely gonna be one of those days.
Travis walked into the diner, his gaze scanning the room.
“I’m meetin’ someone,” he told the waitress. “Can I get some coffee?”
She flashed a smile. “Sure thing.”
While she went to do that, Travis made his way past the tables currently filled with people looking to fill their bellies before the day started. It wasn’t until he reached Brantley and Reese’s table that the nostril-filling aroma of pancakes and syrup actually smelled good.
How long had it been since that was the case? Since he’d enjoyed food rather than putting it in his mouth because his body required it?
At least one year, eight months, and twenty-six days.
“Mornin’,” Brantley greeted when he approached.
“Mornin’. You expectin’ someone else?”
“A few someones,” Brantley answered. But we’ll figure it out when they get here. Have a seat.”
Travis pulled out the chair in time to see Reese’s dog’s head pop up. She stared up at him, clearly not sure what to think.
“I promise I won’t step on you,” he told her as he sat, positioning his feet around her.
“Where’s Gage?”
“At home with the kids. And yes, he knows where I’m at.” Travis looked up when the waitress stopped at the edge of the table. She set down a mug and poured coffee into it. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. Want somethin’ to eat?”
“Pancakes,” he told her.
He could sense Brantley’s surprise, but he ignored it.
“Anything with ’em?”
“No.”
He could feel his cousin’s eyes on him, knew Brantley was likely wondering what the hell was wrong with him.
“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Pancakes? Really?”
“Shut up.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?”
Travis discreetly flipped Brantley off. “Shut the fuck up.”
“He said it with a smile,” Brantley mock-whispered to Reese. “Did you see that? A. Real. Smile.”
Doing his best not to get irritated, Travis glanced between them. He could tell Reese had something on his mind, so he stared at him, figuring it was the fastest way to get the guy to spill.
It worked.
“We don’t have confirmation on anything yet, but we did find a house that looked to be where Calloway was holdin’ someone. We have no idea who it was, or why they were there.”
He processed the words at a much slower rate than Reese spoke them.
“The place was cleared out,” Brantley added. “But we did find some blood. Not a lot, but enough to get a sample. Z’s havin’ the lab run it. Hopefully it’s enough to get DNA.”
Travis’s chest felt as though it was filled with air.
His stomach flip-flopped, and he was positive his hearing cut out for a moment.
It was very similar to when Brantley told him they thought Kylie was alive.
He hadn’t believed it at the time, but now he did.
He couldn’t explain why, knew it was irrational on so many levels. Yet, he couldn’t deny it either.
And this information only added to his hope.
“You okay?” Reese asked.
Travis nodded. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Brantley frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“You’re lookin’ for my wife, aren’t ya? You think she’s alive.”
Brantley didn’t respond, simply stared.
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
Brantley looked at Reese. “Am I hallucinatin’? I mean, I’m hungry, so it’s possible, right?”
Travis resisted the urge to punch his cousin in the mouth. If it weren’t for the fact he felt like he was alive for the first time in nearly two years, he would have.
But he had decided last night that it was time to take a page from his daughter’s book. If Kate could believe without even knowing there was a possibility her mother was alive, then so the fuck could he.
After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, Atticus sent Archer a text, asking if he was ready.
Last night, after they’d gotten back to Coyote Ridge, Atticus had intended to drop Archer off at the B and B and then head back to HQ to grab a few hours of sleep on the couch.
Before he could do that, Archer convinced him to get a room, so that was what he’d done.
And surprisingly, despite only falling unconscious for a few hours, he felt better than he had in a while.
He grabbed his wallet and keys, then headed out of the room, remembering to lock it because apparently that wasn’t an automatic thing like it was in a hotel. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the aroma of freshly baked muffins assaulted him, making his stomach rumble.
“Good morning,” Bailey greeted. “Hungry?”
“If I said no, I’d be lyin’. But I’ve got a breakfast meeting with my boss. Smells delicious though.”
It was a bit weird to be staying in a stranger’s house. Even if that house was designed for people to stay in and the woman offering breakfast was simply doing her job.
“I can confirm it is,” Archer said, walking toward him with what looked to be a blueberry muffin in his hand.
“We’re havin’ breakfast at the diner,” he told him.
“This is just an appetizer.” Archer flashed a smile at Bailey. “See you later this evening.”