Page 133 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

She barely glanced. “No.”

“Could he have done work here before you moved in?”

“We’ve been here three years.”

“Any young women live in the back unit? Dark-haired girl, blonde girl, around fifteen?”

“No.”

Too quick. But not false, probably just annoyed. He showed Bay’s photo.

“No,” she said again, firmer.

“Anyone here move suddenly in the last few months?”

She closed the car door. “People move all the time. Not here.”

“Who owns the place?”

“Man named Luis. He lives in Santee.”

“Is the back unit rented?”

“Yeah, to an older lady. She’s been there longer than me.”

JP smiled. “Do you think she would mind if I asked her?”

“She won’t answer. She thinks everyone is selling solar.”

JP walked down the driveway anyway.

The detached unit was small, shaded, and private—a good hiding place.

After the third knock, an elderly woman answered, holding a television remote like a weapon. “I’m not buying anything.”

“Neither am I.”

He showed Bay’s photo. “Have you seen this young woman?”

“No.”

Then he held up Maddox’s photo.

“No.”

“Any young women ever stay in the front unit? Or visit here?”

“No. I watch that driveway more than I watch television.” She lifted the remote. “And I watch TV all day.”

JP looked past her. The back unit had lace curtains, a porcelain cat on the windowsill, and the smell of soup drifting out, but no hint of Bay or Hannah.

He thanked her.

Back in the truck, he sat with the engine off and looked at the three crossed-out addresses. His three best possibilities had struck out.

He took out the map again and stared at the circle around the laundromat. Then he circled the remaining eleven addresses. It was time to widen the net.

Chapter 50