Page 85 of Colton’s Inferno

“I don’t think that he’ll cause any issues,” said Callum. “But just in case, look in the glove box.”

Leaning forward, he pulled the levered door open. Inside was a firearm, a black PSA Micro Dagger.

“That’s my personal gun,” said Callum, speaking of the small pistol. “It’ll do whatever you need.”

Aiden reached for the gun and wrapped his fingers around the grip. The metal was cold. “I’m a firefighter, you know. Not a cop.”

“Think of it as water against a flame. If you need this, you are neutralizing a threat.”

Doubt crept up the back of his neck. He shook his head, clearing his misgivings. “I won’t use it,” he said.

“Just keep it with you for now,” said Cal, turning on his blinker. He took a left at an intersection. “It’ll make me feel better if you have it with you.”

Aiden ignored his brother and stared out of the window. This part of town was filled with smaller homes that were closer together. He pulled up in front of a house that had been yellow at one time, but the paint had faded to beige. Clumps of grass grew between the broken slabs of concrete that led to the front door.

They got out of the car, and Aiden slipped the firearm into the waistband of his jeans. He pulled his shirt over the gun’s grip. “Happy?” he asked his older brother.

“Actually,” he said, walking toward the front door, “I am.”

Cal knocked on the door. It was opened a minute later by a small woman with wide dark eyes and a long nose. She wore a brown robe and clutched at the folds with delicate hands. For some reason, she reminded Aiden of a bird.

“Sheriff Colton,” she said, “is everything alright?”

“We need to speak to your son Stuart.”

“He’s not here,” she said. “He’s got an apartment near the grocery store.”

“I know that complex.” Cal took a small pad of paper and a pen from his breast pocket. “What’s his number?”

“Seven-L,” said Stu’s mother, holding the front of her robe tighter across her chest. “Is he in trouble?”

“We just want to talk to him.” Aiden’s brother scribbled the unit number onto the paper. He shoved the pad and pen back into his pocket. “We think he might be able to help with a case.”

“He should be home now. Although you’ll probably wake him up, so I’m not sure how much help he’ll be. Until he gets a cup of coffee, at least.”

Aiden smiled at her jest. “Thanks for everything.”

Mrs. Whittier closed the door.

Aiden followed his older brother back to the cruiser that was still parked at the curb. He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Once the door was closed, he asked, “Why’d you lie?”

Cal put the gearshift into Park and pulled onto the road. “You saw how she was. She’s worried about her son. If she thinks we want to arrest Stu, then she’s less likely to tell us where he is.”

“Where he is now,” said Aiden. “We just have to hope that Stu’s mom doesn’t warn him that we’re on our way.”

Aiden’s phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. Ted Barrett. “Let me take this,” he said, swiping the call open.

Before he could say hello, Ted said, “I called the crime lab this morning, like I said I would. They told me that the results came in already and they have a match. But they wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Thanks for making the call,” said Aiden, turning on the speaker function. “Callum already got the report, and I’m with him now.”

“What’d the report say?” Ted asked.

“It’s Stuart Whittier,” said Cal, gripping the steering wheel in both hands.

“Stu, as in Aiden’s friend from high school?” Ted asked. “The one we ran into a few weeks ago?”

“He’s not my friend.” How many times did he need to point that out to Ted? “But yeah, that’s the guy.”