else. Towel closet revealed a couple of washrags and a six-pack of toilet paper. The attached clothes closet held a variety of cheap suits and well-worn shoes.
Brantley searched high and low, ensuring there wasn’t something that might give him a clue as to where the brother was.
When he stepped back into the hall, he studied it for a moment. For some reason, it felt like the hallway should go to the right from there, not just the left. He looked down at the floor, saw that the wall was a bit offset, like the carpenter hadn’t had the skill to make the corners square.
Shrugging off the thoughts of who might have built this house, Brantley went back the way he’d come, past the doorway to the living room, and into the other bedroom. It held a twin bed that had been stripped of all blankets and sheets. No pillows, no other furniture. With nothing to look at, he pulled the door closed, leaving it the way he’d originally found it, and continued on to the small laundry room, back to the kitchen.
“Any luck?”
Reese shook his head.
“You see a computer?”
“Nope. Guy’s smart. Doubt he’d keep anything incriminatin’ here. Never know when a partner or co-worker might stop by.”
Yeah, Reese was probably right, but it still felt off. Had to be the smell, he thought as he did a three sixty and observed once more.
“I’m good if you are,” he said on a disappointed exhale.
Because they’d already been there longer than Brantley cared to be, they slipped out through the back door, locked up behind them. He took a quick peek at the storage shed in the back. Cheap padlock dangled from the bracket, not even secured. Inside, there was nothing worth stealing—only a rusted old lawn mower and a rickety wooden table.
“Now we know watchin’ the house won’t get us anywhere.” They’d been on it all night and evidently they’d missed seeing the brother slip out.
Reese was right. They had to come up with another plan and they needed one fast.
***
It frustrated Reese that they hadn’t found anything that would help them track down the detective’s brother. Not so much as a photograph that gave them an idea of what the brother looked like.
Which was the real problem, he realized.
With Brantley behind the wheel, Reese dialed JJ’s number, let the call connect to the Bluetooth speaker.
“What’s up?”
“You sound chipper,” Brantley said before Reese could tell her his reason for calling.
“What? No. Not… What’s up?”
Reese watched as Brantley grinned, that knowing smile that gave away nothing.
Because he had no idea what the inside joke was, Reese got on with his reason for calling. “Something’s botherin’ me about the brother.”
“Hold on. Lemme put you on speaker. I’m at HQ with Baz and Trey. Oh, and Tesha. She’s here, too.”
A chorus of greetings sounded when the speaker was engaged and Reese could tell JJ was walking, probably making her way downstairs.
“What did you find out about the brother?” he asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.
“I take it you haven’t checked your email this morning?”
“Not yet,” Brantley said, steering the SUV out of the neighborhood. “We wanted to hear your lovely voice, JJ.”
“Whatever. And not much on the brother, unfortunately. I ran a couple of searches overnight and I’m stumped. While some of the case notes refer to a brother, there’s no information on him. And I mean none.”
“Maybe Collins worked some magic, covered his brother’s existence,” Trey suggested. “I’m sure it’s happened before.”
“So there’s no social security number? No birth certificate?”
JJ spoke up. “Nothing that confirms so much as the existence of a brother. I even went through some of the hospital records where Collins was born, skipped forward five full years since that’s when the parents split up. If they had another kid, he wasn’t born in that hospital, and I don’t have enough to start hacking all the hospitals in the area.”
Reese knew she was right. Couldn’t simply start digging into personal information in hopes of finding a person.
“There’s gotta be somethin’,” Brantley said. “No one exists entirely off the grid.”
“Not unless he was born in a commune and they didn’t report it,” Baz said.
The sound of keys clacking filled the truck.
“Trey, did you come across anything?” JJ asked, her voice directed away from the phone.
“I don’t care if it’s a yearbook photo or social media,” Reese continued. “Something’s off about this whole thing.”
Brantley went on to fill them in on how they’d made a run through the detective’s