Page 27 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

Rather than getting food or stopping by to check on JJ and the babies, they adjusted the schedule to meet with Simon and Holt first. It wasn’t ideal, but Simon had something he needed to do, so it was their only option if they wanted to talk today.

Since Brantley was eager to get this out of the way so they knew whether they would be tackling a new case or moving on with their lives, he opted to forgo food for the time being.

Not that his stomach was happy about that.

With his stomach rumbling, Brantley steered the truck toward downtown Coyote Ridge.

They were a few minutes early for their meeting, which was why he’d opted to call Baz, check in.

The man sounded as though he hadn’t slept for a month, but there was still a smile in his voice, so Brantley considered that a good thing.

“That’s great to hear,” Brantley told Baz. “I figure we’ll stop by later this evening to check on y’all. If you need us to bring anything, just holler.”

Baz chuckled. “You realize you’re sounding more and more like Reese every day. Just holler.” He laughed again. “But thanks. I’ll talk to JJ once she’s awake. I know when she wakes up, she’ll want to go down to the NICU, but I’m hoping she’ll sleep for a bit.”

“You might want to grab some sleep yourself. From what I hear, there’s not much to be had when you’ve got a newborn, much less two.”

“One of these days I’ll grab a minute or two with my eyes shut.”

“Talk atcha later,” Brantley told him, then ended the call.

“More and more like me, huh?” Reese asked, grinning from his spot in the passenger seat.

“That’s what he tells me all the time.”

“I guess I’m more redneck than you are.”

“Well, that’s for damn sure,” Brantley agreed.

He turned off Main Street and headed for a lot a couple of blocks away. He preferred not to park on the street and risk being blocked in.

Once parked, Brantley got out and waited for Reese and Tesha. They walked the short distance to their destination, then slipped down the alley behind the buildings.

Reese and Tesha went up first, so Brantley followed. When Reese reached the apartment, he knocked on the open door.

“Come in,” someone called from inside. “You can close the door behind you.”

Brantley did after he stepped into the small apartment.

The sun was shining in through the windows that lined the front wall, casting waves of light across the hardwood floor.

He figured it would’ve been the living room had it been used appropriately.

However, it appeared to be an office if the desk in the middle of the room was any indication.

“I use this space when I need to get away from the chaos,” Holt said, walking in from an adjacent room.

“That explains why it’s so clean.”

“Yeah. I try to keep it that way.” Holt gestured toward the room he’d come from. “I can’t say the same for in there. Ignore the clutter on the left and the storyboards behind the desk.”

Looked as though they were going to get right to it.

“Hey, girl,” Archer greeted Tesha without touching her. “You can leave her with me if you’d like.”

“Break,” Reese told Tesha.

Tesha’s tail—her whole butt, really—started wagging instantly as she moved closer to Archer, causing the man’s face to split in a grin as he squatted down on his haunches to pet her.

“Go on. She’s safe in here.”

Brantley led Reese into the only other room in the apartment, except for the small bathroom just past the kitchen area.

The door was open, and the light was on, so he stepped inside.

On the left was the chaos Holt had mentioned.

Colorful Post-it notes covered the desk and were pinned to the wall.

Some had notes on them, others had arrows, and some others had doodles that, to Brantley’s eye, looked as though they’d been drawn out of frustration.

A tap on his arm had him turning. Reese was pointing to the wall opposite the desk area. It took a moment for everything to register. There were photos and articles clipped from newspapers, along with more Post-its, most bigger and lined, with handwritten notes on them.

Brantley moved closer, skimmed the data.

He recognized most of the information because it pertained to the cases they’d worked—Kate Walker’s kidnapping, the hunt for Juliet Prince.

There were clippings of images of him and Reese from an article on the task force back when they’d been hired by Governor Greenwood.

“They’ve gathered a lot of information,” Reese noted.

Yeah. They had. Most of it wasn’t news to Brantley because they’d worked alongside Travis’s family from the very beginning, back a few years. What was new to him were the articles pertaining to the Southern Boy Mafia and the FBI task force hired to take them down.

“Believe it or not, there’s a timeline depicted there,” Simon said when he walked into the room. “Or the beginnings of one, anyway.”

“It starts here? Twenty years ago?” Reese asked, gesturing to the farthest left, where there was an article about Samuel Adorite, Max’s father.

“Roughly seventeen, yes.” Simon pointed to the next article. “There’s a gap, but I had a buddy of mine look into the FBI agent handling the case at the time.”

Brantley looked at Simon. “And?”

“That’s where things get weird.” Simon lowered his hand and sighed. “I was skeptical about this whole thing at first.” He glanced at Holt. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But after gathering only a few more details, I’m inclined to think Holt might be onto something.”

“Something like what?” Brantley asked, not understanding the doublespeak.

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve got what appears to be a deeply-rooted conspiracy to take down the Southern Boy Mafia.”

Brantley looked at Reese, then at Holt, and then back at Simon. He was so fucking confused. “Conspiracy? I thought we were lookin’ for a missing woman.”

“She’s key, yes,” Simon noted.

“Okay. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the FBI creates task forces to take down criminal organizations all the time. Why’s this different?”

“Because I don’t believe in coincidence,” Simon stated. “And Meredith Prescott’s disappearance lines up too perfectly with the information Holt’s uncovered about the task force.”

Brantley directed his attention to Holt. “Do you have any facts to prove this? Or are you makin’ shit up as you go?”

“I’ve done my best not to trip any flags,” Holt stated.

“Meaning?” Reese asked.

“Meaning he hasn’t started digging,” Brantley answered.

Reese crossed his arms over his chest. “So what makes you think it’s a conspiracy?”

Holt glanced from one person to the next and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “This is gonna sound strange.”

“Try us,” Reese stated.

“Something feels off.”

Brantley waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Off?” Surely, he didn’t hear the man right. “That’s what you’re goin’ on? Somethin’ feels off to you, so it must be a conspiracy?”

“Like I said, I was doing my best not to trip any flags, so I reached out to Simon to see if he thought it had merit. I figured if he thought there was a story there, he’d dig into it.”

“Which you did. And you do,” Reese stated, addressing Simon.

Simon nodded. “But I’ve been careful, too. Up to this point. Until I get my bearings, I don’t want to draw the attention of someone who might end up on my radar.”

“Like an FBI agent,” Reese stated.

“Exactly.”

Brantley wasn’t sure if they were giving him the runaround on purpose or if they hadn’t thought this through all the way. Whatever the reason, he was starting to think they were wasting his time.

“How do you think we can help?” Brantley asked because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I was hoping we could all sit down and map out a timeline, including the most recent occurrences.”

“What recent occurrences could possibly have anything to do with the Adorites?”

“Kylie Walker’s death.”

“What?” Brantley frowned. “What the hell’re you talkin’ about?”

“We think it might be related,” Holt said.

Brantley stared at the man, almost positive he’d lost his damn mind. Kylie’s death had nothing to do with the Southern Boy Mafia. It was the tragic result of an unhinged woman.

“Did you know about this?” Brantley asked Reese.

“Know what?”

“That they’re lookin’ into Kylie’s death?”

“We’re not,” Holt said quickly.

Reese spoke over him, answering Brantley. “No. It didn’t come up.” Reese looked at Holt. “Related how?”

“We believe—” Holt looked at Simon and amended his statement. “ I believe it’s possible the FBI used Kylie’s death as a way to draw her mother out.”

Brantley couldn’t hold in his frustration. “Did it work?”

“No.”

“So why the fuck would you think that?”

“Because it was a convenient opportunity,” Holt said.

“Convenient?” Brantley ground his molars together, expecting them to crumble into dust. There was absolutely nothing convenient about Kylie’s death. Tragic? Absolutely. Catastrophic. Awful. Deplorable. Those were all words that made sense. Not convenient.

“It won’t be an easy subject to broach,” Holt started, as though he was oblivious to Brantley’s internal rage.

“No. It’ll be hell,” Brantley snapped. “We’ve lived through it once. I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to...”

He let the sentence trail off rather than say what he wanted to. I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to dredge up all my mistakes .

“Why do you need to bring Kylie into it? Why would anyone?” Reese asked when Brantley spun on a heel and paced to the other side of the room.

“Because there’s someone out there who wants to take down the Adorites that damn bad,” Simon answered.

“Who?”

“That’s a good question. And one we need to answer. Which is why we need your help. If anyone has half a chance of connecting the dots on this, I think it’ll be your team,” Simon said.

Figuring it was best to just launch right into it, Reese glanced between Simon and Holt. “Have you talked to Travis? I mean, after your conversation about…”