Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,59
the phone’s speaker.
“What’s up, cowboy?”
Brantley smirked. Why she referred to Reese that way, he wasn’t sure, but he kind of liked it.
Reese grinned. “I need a favor.”
“Hit me.”
“Corinne left the bar last night in an Uber. Could you get me a line on the driver? Maybe they’ll know something.”
“Already done,” JJ came back. “When her friend told me, I started looking into it. Driver’s name is Suzy Dumonde. Single mom of two teenagers, runs Uber and Lyft on the weekends for extra money. Clean as far as I can tell.”
“Perfect. You got a number?”
“Got it and already called. Suzy remembers Cori. Said she dropped her at the Northshore apartments at half past one, waited until Cori went through the door, and then drove off. She took two more rides after that. I verified. One took her up to Round Rock, the other back toward the Domain.”
Which meant Suzy was a dead end. “Son of a bitch.”
“I’m sorry, guys.”
“Yeah.” He was, too.
Reese spoke up. “Hey, JJ? Any chance you can dump Corinne’s phone? See if she got any calls after she was dropped off?”
“Uh … it’s a big possibility, if it’s still turned on. Would be easier if I had it. Hold tight. Let me see what I can do.”
“Pretty damn smart for a cowboy,” Brantley teased while they waited for JJ to pull up what she could.
Reese rolled his eyes, but there was a smile that pulled at his mouth.
While JJ muttered on the phone, Brantley focused on getting them to their destination. He was curious to talk to this supposed boyfriend, figure out what he knew. If they were lucky, Corinne had spent the night with the guy, keeping it on the down low. She’d told her friend she didn’t want to jinx it, so maybe this was her way of ensuring she didn’t.
“All right, boys. Had to move to the offline system, but I found that there were no calls to or from Cori after one this morning. Not until her mom started callin’. She used her phone to secure an Uber, and there are a handful of text messages to someone named Andrew, who it appears she met at the bar last night. Seem innocent, questions back and forth. Like they’re gettin’ to know each other. They end with Andrew asking a question and Cori never responding.”
“Maybe he followed her from the bar?” Reese asked.
“It’s possible. Let me pull up what I can on him. See if I can track him down. Did you find anything at her apartment?”
Reese took point on answering. “No evident signs she’d been there since before she went out last night. We’ll see how this lead pans out, then it might be worth a second look.”
“Like I said, let me know if I can help.”
“You talk to Dante?” Reese inquired.
“Yeah. Trina’s in a panic now. She broke down and called Gerard. He insisted they call us. Dante assured him we were already looking into it.”
“They notify APD?”
“Yeah. He let them know we were lookin’ into it, too.”
Good thing. They’d yet to encounter being up against law enforcement. Last thing they needed was a road block or red tape.
“Hey, JJ. We’ll hit you back in a few,” Brantley told her. “We’re about to exit Burnet.”
“Sure. No problem. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.” Brantley flipped on his turn signal and exited.
“Whose house are we goin’ to?” Reese inquired as he pulled out his weapon, checked it.
“JJ scanned Corinne’s social media accounts. Found this guy friended her a couple of months back. Name’s Tyler Murphy. Thirty-six, divorced, a six-year-old daughter. Sounds a lot like the guy Michelle described.”
“Yep. You buyin’ the story? Or think he’s probably married and lookin’ for a little somethin’ on the side?”
“Damn,” he said, grinning. “Went down that rabbit hole awfully quick. Jaded, are you?”
“Realistic,” Reese countered.
Brantley turned down the street the guy lived on, glanced at the numbers painted on the curb. He steered past a few houses, pulled the truck to the side of the road. “That’s it. Two doors down. Red Malibu in the driveway.”
“Got it. What’s the plan?”
Resting his hands on the steering wheel, Brantley cocked his head toward Reese. “I’m not one to cop to shortcomings,” he said easily, “but this is outta my wheelhouse. I’m a SEAL, not a cop.”
“Ah.” Reese nodded as though that made sense. “You’d be more suited if we needed to blow shit up.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Damn straight.”
Reese chuckled. “I guess we’re gonna test that whole immunity and means thing then,