Page 60 of Hard Rain

“Anything?” Axel asked.

“Nope, shed was empty,” Grady said. “That’s the third place today.”

“Fourth,” Axel corrected. “We already checked the mini-mart off Lincoln on the way here.”

“Ah.” Grady groused at Tomas. “Where’s my coffee?”

“You realize we’re in the middle of a warrant?” Tomas said, handing over the paper cup.

“I’m aware.” Grady smirked and took a swallow anyway.

Boots sounded on the porch.

Grant Mercer ducked through the doorway behind them, shaking off water.

Axel hadn’t seen Grant in probably a year. Tomas’s older brother was still built like a freight train. Broad shoulders nearly filled the doorway. Black hair that needed a trim. Green eyes that missed very little.

“Told you Cutter wouldn’t stay here,” Grant said.

His voice was deep with a hint of a drawl. Slow and unhurried, like he’d already thought about what he was going to say before opening his mouth.

Knox glanced over. Then again.

Grant didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Axel smirked. He and Grant had grown up together. The man had always been a force. He’d broken more than a few hearts over the years.

The woman threw her hands into the air.

“If you idiots are done tearing apart my house, get the hell out.”

“Tempting,” Axel said. “Now tell me, who else has been asking about Cutter?”

It took another ten minutes to get anything useful out of them. Mostly because neither seemed capable of answering a question without cussing first. The woman swore she’d never met Cutter. The guy swore he’d never heard of him.

Both changed their stories twice.

Neither seemed particularly committed to the truth.

The chemical smell hanging in the house made Axel’s teeth hurt. Between the drugs on the coffee table and the overflowing ashtrays, it was a miracle they’d managed to keep their stories straight.

In the end, all they got was a description.

Older Ford pickup. Primer-gray hood.

Seen a few days ago.

Same damn truck they’d been chasing since the witness call.

Gravel crunched outside.

Axel looked toward the doorway.

Two of Tomas’s deputies climbed out of a patrol unit.

Finally.

“Possession?” one deputy asked, stepping through the door and eyeing the coffee table.