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She took the papers with thanks and flipped through as Brice held his phone’s flashlight over the pages. She scanned until she found a number and then juggled the lease with her phone as she punched in the digits. Her breath paused as she waited for the line to ring.
A mechanical voice answered, “You’ve reached a number that is no longer in service.”
Click.
She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. Blame that on the mother in her that just wanted this resolved and her daughter safely home. The fed in her realized it was likely the number was tied to a prepaid phone. In that case, it was easy to change them out and switch numbers with new SIM cards. “Is that the only number you have for them?”
“Yeah. I take it no luck?”
She shook her head and handed the papers back to Jerald.
“Well, I hope you find them, and they’re okay.”
“We are going to do our best,” she said, still pulling on her training to remain diplomatic and neutral. It was taking more out of her as the minutes passed standing there. While she was slogging through this minutiae, her daughter was… No, it was best that she didn’t entertain any thoughts pertaining to her welfare. No good would come from that. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they like to hang out, or names of any of their friends, would you?”
“Nah. We’re not chummy.”
Sandra had a feeling that was going to be his response, but she had to give it a go. If they could track down friends of the men, they might be able to get their current numbers and a lead. She brought up a photo of Olivia on her phone and held her screen for Jerald. “Does she look familiar to you?” It was a reach, a long shot, but she had to ask.
The man narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “She’s not from around here.”
“So you’ve never seen her?” she volleyed back.
“No. But what does she have to do with Lonnie and Dennis?”
“You’ve been very kind and generous with your time, Mr. Booth, but I can’t disclose that as it’s an FBI matter,” she said.
“Huh. Okay.”
She closed Olivia’s photo but not before catching a glimpse of her daughter’s beautiful face. But there was no time to wallow in fear or sorrow. Focus was going to be her savior. “We have a warrant to search the residence of Lonnie Jennings and Dennis Eaton.” She brought up the document.
Jerald waved her away. “First you ask about Lonnie and Dennis, and now this young girl… I’m just sickened by my own imagination. I can put things together, Agent. Do what you have to do.” He put his hand into his robe’s pocket and came out with a key. “This should help.” Then he turned to walk back into his house, but she stopped him.
“Just take this.” She gave him her business card. “Call if either of them comes back but don’t approach them.”
Jerald nodded and retreated into his house. The sound of his deadbolt clunking into place could be heard from down his front walkway.
His response did little to settle her stomach. “What did he mean by…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question. Did the property manager have reason to question the morality of his renters?
“Don’t pay that attention, Sandra,” Brice encouraged her. “People get a bit touchy when it comes to kids.”
“Me too.”Especially when it’smykid!
“That’s why I’m here. You can lean on me to help you through this.”
She looked over at him, and he raised an eyebrow. She’d never opened herself up to the guy before but that may have been her loss. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
They returned to the rental and let themselves inside. The place was stale with the faint smell of bacon. Brice flipped on the light switch and revealed a plainly decorated home with scuffed beige walls, white trim, and little furniture. They went through the house, and for each step Sandra took, her gut curdled to think she was in the home of the men who had her daughter.
It didn’t take long to sweep through the two stories, and nothing gave them any clue as to where they had taken Olivia. What they did have was dried bacon grease in a fry pan on the stove and skinned-over coffee in the pot. She pointed out both to Brice. “They haven’t been here in at least twenty-four hours. Longer than that I’d suspect we could see mold.”
“That fits with what the landlord told us.”
She nodded, though this tidbit didn’t get her closer to Olivia. It was time to talk things out some more. “There’s nothing to indicate they planned to take Olivia for a while.”
“And they couldn’t know about you before the hearing or that the parole would be denied,” Brice weighed in.