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“Probably taking her to ID the body,” said Sebastian. Major nodded.
“Wait until they leave, and we’ll go inside. There has to be something there that will tell us where he is.”
“What about the crates? If he doesn’t have them. Who does? And are there really mummies inside?” asked Forrest.
“I don’t know, and I have to be honest. I don’t care. This is all insane to me. Whatever is in those crates has already caused so much death, so much pain. It doesn’t need to be seen by anyone. It can’t possibly be that important,” said Major.
“They’re gone,” said Alistair.
“You’ve been awfully quiet this trip,” said Sebastian. He shrugged as they strolled across the street. “You alright, brother?”
“I’m good. All you guys falling in love and shit has me rethinking my life.”
“What do you mean? Are you interested in meeting someone?” asked Major.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I need to reenlist. It’s not too late. Rangers would want me back.”
“Are you fucking nuts?” growled Sebastian. “We went in at the same time; we got out at the same time, Alistair. We’ve done our time, and we’ve kicked our fair share of ass. We don’t need to do that any longer.”
“I’m aware, Sebastian. But Walker has Mags, Major has Elena, you’ve got Em, and Forrest has Maddie. That leaves me the lone man out.”
“Uh. Hello,” frowned Garr. “I’m still single, asshole.”
“Sorry,” smirked Alistair. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a phase. I’ll get over it. I probably just need to get laid.”
They walked to the back of the house, the darkness helping to cover their movements. There didn’t seem to be any pets, and definitely no alarms. Sebastian easily picked the lock and opened the back door. They’d obviously been in the middle of cooking their evening meal when the police arrived. The pots were still hot, and the table was set.
The house didn’t have an office, but they searched the drawers of the buffet and any drawers in the kitchen. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms. The kids’ rooms were so dirty you wouldn’t have been able to find a dead body in there.
Efram and his wife shared a small bedroom with no room for any movement outside of sleeping and getting dressed. Back downstairs, they stared at the rooms, shaking their heads.
“Nothing,” said Garr, frustrated.
“There has to be something,” said Major. “See if there’s a basement.”
“There’s no basement, Major,” said Alistair.
“Damn,” he muttered. “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack. How in the fuck are we going to find him?” Alistair looked around the dismally normal home. There were fashion magazines, sports magazines, and several books. The kids had left their gaming devices near their seats, the wife leaving behind her knitting in a basket beside a chair.
He slowly turned, feeling as though something was out of place. What was it? What was making him feel odd? That.
“That,” he said, pointing to a photo on the wall. “Everything in this house is about kids and family. Everything except that. A framed postcard.”
He removed it from the wall then removed the back of it. The postcard had an address on it. An address in Cambridge.
“Of course. He’d want to be near academics. He’d want access to libraries and research if at all possible,” said Major. “He’s there. I know he’s there.”
“Let’s go, brother,” said Sebastian.
They exited the back of the house, ensuring that they locked the door again. In this neighborhood, it wouldn’t matter that they were a grieving family. Someone was likely to take advantage of their distraction.
Near the vehicle, four young men stood with massive cricket bats in their hands. Sebastian laughed, shaking his head.
“You don’t want to do this, fellas.”
“Yer Yanks,” sneered one of the boys.
“Proudly. Yes,” said Alistair.