Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,60
huh?”
Brantley grinned. “I like the way you think.”
With that, Brantley got out and strolled across the street, past a couple of houses that looked like mirror images of those across from them. It was a cookie-cutter neighborhood, one filled with families. Kids, dogs, hamsters. Playscapes and trampolines likely dotted the backyards, bikes littering the front when the kids were let out to play. Which meant there was a good chance Reese was right. This joker was probably married.
He fought the urge to pull his gun and go in hot. He did, however, make sure his badge was visible on his hip.
Taking a deep breath, he stuck to the sidewalk, sneaking a peek in the Malibu as he passed by, noting a phone charger in the center console, a couple of toys in the backseat.
Brantley shot a quick look over his shoulder to see Reese ambling along behind him, looking casual, like he belonged strolling the streets of this neighborhood.
When Reese joined him on the concrete porch, Brantley banged on the door, waited.
“I told you, I’m not interested,” the male voice sounded as the door opened.
A man appeared, eyes widening when he took in Brantley. Guy was clean-cut, if not a bit uppity with his plaid shorts, V-neck T-shirt, feet bare. He looked as though he’d been camping out on the couch, chilling on a Sunday.
“Uh … sorry ’bout that. Thought you were those solar guys coming back. Been hassling me since I moved in.”
“You Tyler Murphy?” Brantley prompted, foregoing the social niceties.
“Yeah.” The guy frowned, glanced past him to Reese. “What’s going on?”
“We’re lookin’ for Corinne Greenwood. You seen her lately?”
“Corinne—you mean Cori?”
Brantley pulled off his sunglasses, cocked an eyebrow. “Have you seen her lately?”
“No. Actually, I’ve never seen her. Not in person. We just started talking online. Why? What’s—”
“You mind if we come in to talk?” Reese asked, holding up his badge as he stepped up beside Brantley.
The guy’s gaze shot from the badge to the gun on Reese’s hip. “You’re police?”
“Governor’s task force,” Brantley confirmed.
Based on the confused expression, Brantley was starting to think maybe JJ was right. They needed a name, something that didn’t sound so … fake. Something that would hopefully start getting around so they didn’t look like a bunch of imposters.
“We just wanna talk,” Reese said, his voice lower, almost comforting.
“Sure. Yeah. Come in.” Tyler stepped back, motioned them inside. “Is Cori okay?”
The scent of bacon and coffee lingered in the air, the sound of a television coming from the room at the back of the house. Brantley scoped what he could see. Sparse on furniture, a couple of boxes stacked in the formal dining room, a pogo stick leaning against a closet door. No one else in view.
When Tyler closed the front door, Brantley turned his attention to the man. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“We just IM. You know, instant message?” Tyler’s gaze bounced back and forth between them. “We’re taking our time getting to the meet-in-person phase. I think I chatted with her yesterday. She said she was going out with friends last night. I haven’t heard from her today. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Corinne’s missing, Mr. Murphy,” Reese supplied. “She went out with some friends last night, but she never came home.”
Brantley watched closely as the man’s eyes dilated, true fear forming on his face. Question was, was the fear from guilt or concern?
“Where were you at one o’clock this morning?” Reese questioned.
“Here. Asleep.”
“Anyone confirm that?”
“My daughter,” he said simply. “But she’s six. She was asleep, too. It’s my weekend to have her.”
“Is she here now?”
Now Tyler’s fear shifted, morphing into something protective. “She is. She’s playing in her room, but I’d prefer you leave her alone. Like I said, she was asleep.”
As much as he wanted to rough this guy up, Brantley knew then that Tyler Murphy had nothing to do with Corinne’s disappearance. He could also sense the guy’s worry, but it wasn’t that of a man who’d developed feelings for her. More like that of a parent, or maybe of a Good Samaritan. Whatever the relationship he had with Corinne, it hadn’t taken root yet.
“If you hear from her, you mind giving me a call?”
“You got a card?”
No, actually, he did not.
Another thing they needed to work on.
Reese reached for his wallet, pulled out a card, passed it over.
Curious, Brantley peered down, noticed it was a Walker Demolition card.
“I thought you said—”
“Previous job,” Reese stated. “Haven’t gotten new cards yet. But that’s