“It’s probably safe to assume the detective’s not at work,” Reese said as they walked around to get into the SUV.
“Doubtful.”
“Maybe JJ can see where the call came from?”
“Worth a shot. Call her back. Tell her what happened.” He put the key in the ignition, started the engine. “In the meantime, we’re goin’ back to the detective’s house. There’s got to be a clue there somewhere.”
***While Brantley wound his way through midmorning traffic, Reese called JJ, told her about the phone call.
“I’ll see if I can find a location, but if I’m bein’ honest, it’s gonna be a long shot since it came up blocked.”
“Understood.”
“Where’re you headed now?”
“Back to the detective’s house. Brantley thinks we mighta missed somethin’.”
“I think you did,” said someone in the background.
“Trey?”
“Yep.” His voice came closer to the phone. “Somethin’s been botherin’ me about your initial inspection of the house.”
Figuring this was something Brantley needed to hear, Reese put the call on speaker. “How so?”
“Well, Brantley mentioned one of the bedrooms belonging to the detective, right? Another with only a bed.”
Brantley glanced at Reese, back to the road, answered with, “Yeah. That’s right. So?”
“How big would you say the house was?” Trey asked.
Reese wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he replied with a rough estimate. “Fifteen, sixteen hundred, maybe.”
“See, that’s the problem. I was able to pull up the tax records on the house. The appraisal shows it to be somewhere close to twenty-five-hundred square feet.”
Brantley’s forehead creased; his eyes remained on the road. “I thought somethin’ was off. The hallway. It cut off in a weird spot. The wall wasn’t straight. Felt like that one wall was in the wrong place for the footprint of the house.”
“You think he’s got some hidden rooms?” Reese asked.
“It’s possible.”
“It shows to be four bedrooms, two baths,” JJ announced. “I’ve got the tax appraisal right here. Two of the bedrooms are on exterior walls, two on the interior. Single bath in a hallway.”
“I only saw one bath,” Brantley announced. “In the master bedroom.”
Reese noticed Brantley had picked up speed.
“We didn’t see those rooms,” Reese noted. “Shit.”
Brantley’s phone rang, buzzing in Reese’s hand. He glanced at the screen. “Holy shit. It’s Collins.”
“Answer it.”
Reese tapped the screen to answer, the call going directly to the speaker.
“Walker,” Brantley barked.
“This is Detective Collins.”
The voice had the same tone and cadence but it sounded more adult-like than the one Reese had heard earlier.
“Where are you, Detective Collins?” Brantley demanded.
“I’m taking care of an issue. I heard you’ve been looking for me.”
“We have. We need to talk to you about the case.”
“What is there to talk about? I think you’ve figured out a few things.”
“We still need to talk,” Brantley snapped. “We’re on our way to your house. Will you be there?”
“Depends.” His breathing was labored, like he was moving something heavy. “How long will it take you?”
Reese glanced at the navigation screen. It showed eighteen minutes to destination.
“An hour,” Brantley lied.
“I’ll be back by then. Just need to drop something off real quick.”
God, please don’t let it be a body.
“See you then,” Brantley said through gritted teeth.
The call disconnected and the SUV lurched forward as Brantley’s foot hit the floor.
“Call JJ.”
Reese wasted no time dialing the number, sending the call to speaker.
“We’re on our way back to the house,” Brantley informed her when she answered. “I need you to contact Special Agent Hillary Jones with the FBI. Tell her our suspicions and let her know we’re headin’ to the house.”
“You think he’s there?” she asked, concerned.
“He will be. And I think I might’ve pissed off our suspect.” Brantley hit the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch.”
“Call her, JJ,” Reese commanded. “Now.”
Reese disconnected the call as they sped down the busy highway, the SUV weaving between slower-moving vehicles. They had to pass the police station, then the lake before they made it to the detective’s neighborhood. Thankfully, Brantley slowed some on the residential streets, but not much. A few minutes later, Brantley hit the brakes, bringing the SUV to a skidding stop in front of the house, blocking the driveway.
“His car’s here. You think that means he is?”
“More than likely.”
“How the fuck did he get here so quickly?” Reese asked, opening the glove box and retrieving his backup weapon that he’d stashed there earlier.
“He knows what we’re doin’,” Brantley ground out, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Clearly. And it looked like he was one step ahead, too.
“What’s the plan here?” Reese asked, nodding toward the house.
“We need to locate the women first. Secure them.”
Provided they were inside. Reese prayed like hell they were. “And then?”
Brantley turned toward him, eyes hard and cold. “We’re gonna take this motherfucker down.”
It was times like this when Reese wished he had a weapon with a little more power and range. But his Sig Sauer would have to do for now.
