Page 139 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

“Not unless you count Todd.”

“So, he talked to them?”

“He tried to.” The kid snorted. “He thought he was smoother than he was.”

“How many times did he come here?”

“Twice, as far as I know. Once to fix the window, and then he came back, but they didn’t seem to want to talk to him. He could’ve come more, but that’s all I saw.”

“Do you know the girls’ names?”

“I asked a couple of times, but they wouldn’t say. So, I quit asking.”

“That’s fair,” JP said. “Is your mom around?”

“She’s at work till three.”

“Do you think she’d know the renter’s name?”

“I’m sure she would. It’s probably in the records she keeps.”

“Do you think she’d mind if we looked?”

“She minds everything.”

“Can you be persuaded?”

The boy looked at him hopefully. JP handed him twenty dollars. The boy pocketed it so fast the bill barely existed.

“Come on.”

He led JP through the side door into a cramped office off the laundry room. Shelves held mismatched folders, old receipts, appliance manuals, and enough loose paper to document a small war.

“My mom says she’s organized,” the boy said.

“I bet she knows where everything is.”

They dug through a milk crate labeled RENTALS. The boy found a stack of handwritten receipts bound by a rubber band.

“Back unit, back unit…” He flipped pages. “Here.”

JP leaned over. They were all monthly cash payments, no check numbers, and no forwarding address. JP also noticed the rent included utilities, so there would be no utility bills.

The tenant was listed as David Rainer. That was a different surname than Rourke had given from the Oceanside lead. But a smart guy would use a different alias each time he moved.

“How long did they live here?” JP asked.

The boy checked dates. “Almost a year.”

“When did they leave?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Was it sudden?”

“Mom was mad they didn’t give notice.”

“Where’d they go?”