"We are in the front yard of the house across the road from Nadler's," Azriel said. "There is no one home, so there is no immediate hurry to move."
Thankfully. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. The area we'd appeared in wasn't what I'd expected. When Stane had said Portsea, I'd been imagining the Port Phillip Bay side near the golf club and the peninsula. This looked to be the back beach area—which meant the houses were a fraction cheaper and often older.
"What about Nadler's? Is he—or anyone else—home?"
His house wasn't much to look at—in fact, it was pretty much typical of the beach houses that could be found up and down the bay. It was flat-roofed, with the ground floor being brick and the first floor weatherboard, and it featured a wide balcony that jutted out from the first floor, supported on either side by steel poles. A flat-roofed carport stood on the left side, and in it sat a Toyota Land Cruiser.
"I cannot sense life inside," Azriel commented.
I frowned. "Surely he couldn't have up and disappeared in the few seconds it took us to get here."
"I wouldn't have thought so," Azriel said. "And his vehicle is still there."
"Maybe he's visiting a neighbor." I studied the houses on either side—which didn't tell me a whole lot—then dug my phone out and called Stane.
"Hey, that was quick," he said.
"We haven't caught our man yet, so don't get excited."
"Well, damn."
I smiled. "Can you check his location for us again?"
"Hang on." A slight whoosh sound told me he was rolling from one desk to the other, and then he said, "He's still at the house. Why?"
"Because Azriel's not picking up any sign of life inside the house, that's why."
"Maybe he's just left his phone there."