I step outside and call Jon. “Exton?”
When we arrive in Austin, it’s almost nine, and we park outside her tattoo parlor. I get out to go in, and Braxton insists on going along. Layton, not to be outdone, pops out of the back seat and slides his phone into his back pocket, pulling a ball cap low over his brow.
In another age, we’d have looked like mobsters all walking in together.
Brax at six four, and Layton close behind.
My six-foot-one frame looks wiry compared to Braxton’s wide bulk and weak compared to Layton’s defined muscles.
Not that I’m skinny, but looking short and small is nothing new when I stand next to my brothers.
I ask and learn the manager hasn’t seen her and hasn’t heard from her, even after multiple texts and two calls to her.
She’s never no-showed, calls in if she’s running late, and hasn’t ever stood up a client.
He said that Willa was in earlier that day, used her code to disarm the alarm system.
Security feed shows she and Jackie came in.
They spent an hour or so inside and that they each left with new ink.
The computers weren’t booted up. She never charged Jackie as far as the footage shows.
And they left, arming the system and locking the door at one thirty-two.
I step outside and call Jon.
“Exton?”
“Jon, can you ask around with emergency services and see about anything that happened near Six and Guadalupe?”
“I can. Sixth and Guadalupe? Near Wills’ place?”
I don’t like that he calls her Wills but let it go because I don’t have the time or the headspace for it.
“Yeah. Something’s wrong. I’m looking into it now.”
“Need help?” he asks.
“Just asked for it.”
“Will get back to you ASAP.”
“Thanks.” I disconnect and go back inside.
I ask the manager a few more questions, and he gets more hesitant, almost cagey, and is at one-word answers by the time I’m done.
Brax puts a hand to my chest and ushers me outside to the truck.
Layton jumps in the back seat and says, “Boy, you sure know how to bring a screeching halt to the flow of information.”
“What you missed–” I start, with gritted teeth, before remembering he’s my brother and not the enemy.
“Is that he knows something. His swallowing indicates he was lying. His pulse was erratic due to fight or flight. He licked his lips, displaying adrenaline being dumped into his endocrine system. His right leg is shaking from cortisol and fear. He’s hiding something significant and he knows it’s important.
And that, Layton, is why I continued to push when he lied to my face.
Because the flow of information was way more than the one-word lies and reticent half-truths. ”
Turning to Braxton, I grab his phone, punching in Willa’s address and nod to him, breathing through my nostrils in an effort to regulate my heart rate.
“I’m sorry, Ex,” Layton says.
“It’s all good, Layton. Sorry for the lecture.”
“She means something to you then?”
I let that hang, because she does, and I don’t know how or when that happened.
I nod, and he must see it.
“Then we’ll find her.”
When we arrive at her house, my fears are confirmed. Her front door has been smashed in and all the lights are on.
“Wait here,” I say.
“The fuck you say,” Braxton starts, as he grabs his door handle.
I turn my gaze on him. “I’ll signal you if I need you.”
I wait for his nod and exit the truck.
I enter, pistol drawn, but no one is home. Not a single thing is out of place. Not one. There are two coffee cups in the sink holding soapy water. One plate. One fork. Nothing left on the counters.
Willa’s guest room looks lived in. I didn’t get a glimpse of it last night.
No need when my view was so much better.
The bed is rumpled, but pulled together.
A suitcase lies open on the floor, things strewn in it and around it.
I don’t see evidence of it having been rummaged through in any other way than my own at Pop’s.
Toiletries line the counters in her guest bathroom.
I enter Willa’s room to panic and relief in equal measures. I stuff both down.
Nothing is out of place. Nothing shifted or moved that I can tell, aside from normal life. I can’t speak to what happened after one this morning, but nothing at this point puts me on edge.
I do a walk-through of everything, pulling the door closed with the sleeve of my shirt, and am climbing in the truck when my phone rings with Jon’s name flashing across the screen.