“You think Gallegos is right?” Reese asked after keying Tanner’s address into the navigation system. “That this case is related to that social media scam?”
“Twenty years on the force? I have to believe he’s been doin’ this long enough, he can see things others don’t.”
“Could also be he’s jumpin’ the gun. Maybe the kid got lucky last night and stayed with the girl he went out with.”
“Maybe.” Brantley kept his eyes on the road. “But why wouldn’t Gallegos be able to get ahold of—or better yet, identify—the girl if that was the case?”
“They’re in a seedy motel doin’ what teenagers long to do?”
And grown men, Brantley thought while he said, “You were one horny teenager, weren’t you, Tavoularis?”
“Probably not nearly as horny as you were.”
Brantley chuckled. “Yes, that’s probably true. Sad, but true.”
“Were you a horndog in high school, Brantley?” There was a teasing tone to Reese’s voice but there was some curiosity mixed in.
“I had a steady boyfriend,” he admitted. “And we were both horny all the damn time. So no to bein’ a horndog. But I was gettin’ laid on the regular.”
“Of course you were.”
“Oh, don’t go pretendin’ you were a prude. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Reese ran his hand over his short hair. “Would you believe me if I told you I was a nerd in high school?”
Brantley cut his eyes to Reese, considered it. “No.”
Reese laughed. “Okay, fine. I wasn’t. But I already told you. I spent all my energy workin’ on one girl. By the time I realized she wasn’t gonna put out, I’d invested so much damn time.”
“Poor thing. I guess we’ll have to make up for that lost time, now won’t we?”
“I thought that’s what we’ve been doin’.”
“Yeah?” Brantley grinned again. “I could turn up the heat if you’d like, because once a day ain’t nearly enough.”
“You’ve been holdin’ back on me, Walker?”
“Takin’ things slow like I promised.”
“No one ever said I need slow.” Reese turned his attention out the passenger window. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“Careful what you wish for, baby.”
Of course, this conversation wasn’t helping things in that regard, either. From the moment he’d woken up to find Reese had already headed for work, Brantley had regretted not sleeping lighter last night. If he’d known Reese would’ve snuck out on him, he would’ve set an alarm.
But he wasn’t lying when he said he was taking things slow. It wasn’t easy pretending he wasn’t walking around with a hard-on twenty-four seven. The man made him ache in ways he’d never expected, wishing like hell for some privacy more than just when they called it a day. If he had his way, he would have Reese naked and on every horizontal surface he could find. Hell, some vertical ones, too.
Knowing he had to get his head in the game, he mentally re-dressed Reese and shook off the thought. “Get anything from Baz yet?”
Reese pulled out his phone, tapped the screen. “He’s got some information on the kid. Nothin’ we don’t already know.”
“Hopefully the parents can enlighten us,” Brantley said, taking a turn into the neighborhood the navigation directed him to.
“My question is,” Reese began, “if the only known case was a five-year-old, what would this group want with a sixteen-year-old? Big difference in age there.”
“Depends on what they’re after,” Brantley stated, winding his way toward the Wrights’ house. “If it’s human trafficking, age won’t necessarily matter.”
“Gender?”
“Perhaps. Or they could be grabbin’ whoever they can, whenever they can.” Brantley glanced over. “You belong to any of these online groups?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Which ones?”
“Coyote Ridge has one.”
Of course they did. “That the only one?”
“Yes.”
Brantley wanted to ask what sort of interactions took place, but he wasn’t sure he cared to know. Plus, he was pulling up to Tanner Wright’s house, which gave him something more pressing to deal with.
***When Reese followed Brantley into the Wrights’ house, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. From the outside, it appeared to be a decent neighborhood. Nothing fancy, probably mid- to low-income area, but well-maintained.
It certainly wasn’t to watch Tanner Wright’s father march his wife-beater-and-shorts-wearing ass over and plant it in front of the television and continue playing a video game. Or for the young man’s mother to be sitting at the kitchen table playing slots—or so he assumed based on the noises coming from that direction—on her electronic tablet while smoking a cigarette. Neither seemed at all concerned that Tanner wasn’t home, or that he hadn’t been seen since he left their house last night.
“Whaddya want?” Mrs. Wright called out, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “We already talked to the cops.”
“Ain’t got nothin’ more to tell ’em,” the father said, eyes glued to the TV.
“Mr. Wright, would it be possible for you to pause the game for a moment?” Reese requested, attempting to be polite when what he wanted to do was punch the fucker in the mouth.
