Page 372 of A Matter of Time

I decided to call Dane on my way to the house to give him a heads-up about where I was in my investigation. Someone needed to know my last known location.

“Jory.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked this much, even when I worked for you,” I told my brother. “Crazy, right?”

“Simply tell me where you are now,” he demanded.

“You’ll never guess.”

“No, probably not,” he replied drolly.

“I think I found the place where Caleb and I were kept, and I’m on my way there now.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, why would I be kidding?”

“Jory, please don’t go there by yourself. Please, I’m begging you.”

“I have to. What else would I do?”

“Tell me where you are so I can call the police. What if you disturb something, or worse…what if there’s somebody there? What if whoever’s been watching you, trying to kill you, is there waiting? What if it’s a trap, Jory? What if⁠—”

“It’s not. Whoever was there is long gone. The lady at the mailbox place said she hasn’t seen the guy in almost two weeks. I think he’s dead, Dane. I think I was right and there were two guys and one guy’s dead and maybe I’ll find him out there and… Oh, I think… I got it—I found it. Shit yeah. I should do this for a living. Jory Harcourt, private investigator. Maybe Dylan and I can do both.”

“Jory!”

“Don’t yell, please, my head hurts.”

“You know, I forget sometimes that you’re not even thirty yet. You’re stupid because you’re so damn young. I don’t think your frontal cortex is fully operational yet.”

“I’m twenty-six—of course it is. But really, the police never even got this far.” I stopped the car, parking across the street and looking at the big gray house on the overgrown lot. “Though, I did keep what the carjackers looked like from them, so some of this is on me.”

“All of this is on you,” he said.

I groaned.

“But now you’ve made it all the way to the place where you and Caleb were kept.”

“Yes,” I stated, conflicted over my discovery.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… Why does it have to look like that?”

“Like what?”

“All fuckin’ scary and shit.” I groaned, looking at the rusted mailbox with a lock on it, the fence with the Keep Out sign on it, the knee-high grass and weeds, and the boarded-up windows. “I hate this.”

“Jory, goddamn it! Tell me where you are and I’ll come myself and⁠—”

“Jory?”

“Regina?” I said, getting out of the car and locking it with a chirp of the car alarm. “What are you doing on⁠—”

“Sweetheart, I took the phone from your brother. Would you listen for just one minute? Please.”

“Sure.”