And what about Liza? He picked up his phone, his hand somehow steady as he dialed her number. It rang three times . . . four. His skin broke out in a cold sweat.
“That was quick.”
He blew out a harsh breath of pure relief. “You’re okay.”
Liza paused and he heard something rustle. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Is everything all right?”
Yes. No. I have no idea. “Things are unfolding, Liza. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Hey, listen, along with Everett Draper, his brother, Axel, was at that camp with you?”
Liza paused again as though trying to recall. “I guess he was there, yes. Honestly, I’d forgotten him. He was very quiet, rarely spoke. Just sort of . . . watched.”
Yes, he had. And he’d seen more than anyone realized. “Okay. Hey, if you remember anything else about him, call me, okay?”
“All right. Why though? Is he part of this?”
“Yes, I think so. I’ll fill you in when I get home. The alarm’s still activated?”
“Yes. I’m all locked up. I’m fine. Reed . . . be careful, okay?”
“I will. Talk to you soon.”
He called Zach’s phone next. “Hey there,” he said, his tone grim. “I just heard. Another one, huh?”
“Yeah. Listen, Zach, Charles Hartsman might be in town. I’ll have to catch you up later, but . . . you might want to head home to Josie.”
There was a beat of silence. Reed heard all Zach wanted to ask in that short pause, but he held it back, knowing he’d get answers later. Trusting Reed. “On my way. Be careful, Reed.”
“I will.”
Reed pulled off the exit toward Gordon Draper’s home.
He dialed the number for Sabrina McPhee’s gallery and when her answering machine picked up a minute later, he hung up. He’d already left several messages. “Fuck,” he murmured. “Something’s not right. Neither Sabrina McPhee nor Milo Ortiz has called me back.” Reed glanced at his phone, keying in a search for the number for Rumpke, the garbage collection company Milo Ortiz worked for. A receptionist answered and Reed told her what he needed and a moment later, she was routing him to Milo Ortiz’s boss.
They pulled into Gordon Draper’s neighborhood. “You’re calling about Milo Ortiz,” a man with a gruff voice asked.
“Yes. My name is Detective Davies, and I have some questions for him but haven’t been able to get in touch in the last few days.”
“That makes two of us. Ortiz has been a no-show. It happens. But I gotta say, it surprised me. The guy’s always been real reliable. Guess you can’t trust anyone these days.”
Reed managed to rattle off his number and asked the man to call him if he heard from Milo.
“That can’t be good,” Ransom noted, having obviously gleaned the information from Reed’s side of the conversation.
No, no it wasn’t. It felt like Reed’s blood cooled another few degrees. As soon as they were done here, he’d have a couple of uniforms go to their apartments.
They pulled up to the curb in front of Gordon Draper’s home, just as a patrol car rounded the corner coming from the opposite direction. Reed and Ransom got out, and Reed leaned over to address both uniform cops. “We’re going to check things out inside. Watch our backs?”
“Yes, sir. Radio if you need us.”
Reed and Ransom approached the door, drawing their weapons. As they moved closer, Reed saw that the door was cracked open. Everything inside Reed slowed, his focus becoming laser sharp. He glanced at Ransom who nodded, each of them moving to one side of the door. Ransom reached out and used his gun to rap on the glass. “Cincinnati Police!” he yelled.
They waited. No sound came from within, though a small moving shadow caused them both to lean farther back, weapons raised. “Cincinnati Police!” Ransom yelled, louder this time. Ransom caught Reed’s eye. “It’s been a while,” he said. “Still got it in ya?”
He was trying to add some levity, but all Reed could think was that he might be about to come face to face with his father. He’d have to shoot him. He wouldn’t hesitate. Sweat broke out on his brow. He’d make sure Charles Hartsman knew who he was and then he’d put a bullet in his brain. “Let’s do it,” he said, using his foot to push the door all the way open.
A cat meowed, running through the now fully open door, rushing past them. “Fuck!” Reed breathed out, easing his finger off the trigger. He’d