The Last Straw (The Jigsaw Files #4) - Sharon Sala Page 0,81

Wyrick was abducted, and still there when we found Rachel. He knew nothing about any of it until he got a text from the manager telling him they would be moving them to the Ritz. So he came home and packed, like everyone else.”

“What about Sonny Burch?” Wyrick asked.

“He never registered at the Ritz. He told Dyer that he was staying in the city with family. Then he called his business, put the manager in charge and said he would be gone for a while. And his phone is off. When we call, it goes straight to voice mail.”

“He’s running, isn’t he?” Charlie said.

“Or hiding. At any rate, we’re waiting on a search warrant for his apartment. If we get it, can you meet us there today?” Floyd asked.

“Yes,” Wyrick said. “But I have a question. Did you locate any of Burch’s family?”

At this point Mills entered the conversation.

“To our knowledge, he has no family in the state. His parents and grandparents are deceased. He has two cousins mentioned in an obituary...but one lives in California and the other in Montana.”

“I’ll see if I can find out anything more,” Wyrick said.

“When you get the search warrant, just text me,” Charlie said.

“We’re on our way to the judge’s office now. It shouldn’t be long,” Floyd said. “See you soon.”

He hung up.

Charlie put the phone back in his pocket and finished off the last of his shrimp fried rice.

“I have a spring roll left,” Wyrick said. “You can have it if you want.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, I’m sure there’s one left, but I won’t repeat the offer. Eat it, or forever hold your fork,” she said and pushed the box toward him.

He grinned. “Smart-ass...and thank you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only man I know who gives smiles with insults, and you’re welcome.”

Charlie pointed to a little packet of hot mustard near her glass.

“Would you also part with that packet of hot mustard?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said. “But I’m keeping my leftover fried rice.”

“Understood,” Charlie said.

“Thank you for lunch,” Wyrick said. “I’m going to change into some traveling clothes so I’ll be ready when the call comes.”

“You could go in the leggings and sweatshirt,” Charlie said.

“As if. Nobody sees me like this but you,” she said, then dumped her empty cartons into the trash and strode out of the room like the goddess she appeared to be.

Charlie was still digesting the comment as he finished off the spring roll, and cleaned up what was left of their mess, unaware Wyrick was already in search mode, determined not to let a killer get away.

She dressed quickly in black leather pants and a red V-neck shirt. The only button on the shirt was midway across her stomach, leaving more than enough of her dragon for the world to see.

As soon as she was ready, she hurried back to her office. Her first move was to get the names of J.J. Burch’s parents and grandparents, and then she began searching deeds and land records to see if there were any properties still owned in their names in the state of Texas.

Sixteen

It didn’t take long before Wyrick found records of the deeds, and then she began tracing deaths, and heirs, and more deaths, until she determined that the property in Dallas, once owned by his maternal grandparents, was no longer in the family.

However, the property once belonging to Burch’s paternal grandparents was located in a rural area east of Dallas, and was now owned by a grandson named Joseph Jonathan Burch, who had the same social security number as the Sonny Burch who’d gone missing. She had the right place. Now all she needed was to see if Sonny was there.

She rolled her chair to a different computer, pulled up an icon on the screen and then activated her satellite search. She keyed in the GPS location of the farm, and as an aerial view came up, she started zooming in.

Burch owned a leasing company. If the house was habitable, maybe he’d leased it. Or maybe he’d just leased the land. She needed to see if there was anyone in residence, and kept zooming in until she saw outbuildings, fences and an old, two-story farmhouse.

The house looked empty. The grass in the yard was long enough that it was lying over, like hay ready to cut, and she couldn’t tell if there was power on anywhere.

She moved the camera to the outbuildings, and as she did, noticed the rear end of a newer-model car parked