Page 28 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

Holt filled in when Reese let the sentence fade. “About Kylie’s mother and the Southern Boy Mafia?” Holt shook his head. “I haven’t. Nothing more than pleasantries in passing. And by that, I mean he’s no longer trying to kill me with his death ray glare, but we aren’t exactly friends. Why?”

“You?” he asked Simon.

“I brought him here,” Simon explained. “Showed him the work Holt had done. I needed to see if I’d be causin’ more harm than good by followin’ this story.”

“And?”

“Since Travis’s bid for my services was about to reach two mil, I figure I’m movin’ in the right direction.”

Reese frowned. “He’s payin’ you two million? For what?”

“He’s not payin’ me. I turned him down. I don’t take payment for a story. When there’s money involved, there are also expectations,” Simon explained. “What about you? Y’all are tight with Travis, right?”

“We are.” Usually . Reese cut his gaze to Brantley, then back to Simon as he explained. “He’s been keepin’ his distance. With the wedding and all, we didn’t have time to catch up with him. We’ve tried since, but he’s not makin’ it easy. I think he’s dodgin’ us, to be honest.”

“What did you tell Travis?” Brantley asked Simon, waving his hand at the stuff on the walls.

“I told him I would investigate the story how I see fit and that I’m not lookin’ for payment. And I’m not. Not from the families. I earn my paycheck from the podcast. Anyway, he said he’d pay me to look into Meredith Prescott. I told him I wasn’t that kind of investigator.”

“We are,” Brantley noted.

“I know. Which is why I’ve come to you. Regardless of whether Holt’s theory is true, I think he’s stumbled across something that needs to be looked at. I do think there’s a story there.”

Brantley gestured at the wall. “Based on what I see here, the story’s already been told. The total sum of this is right where we are today, and to be honest, I’d prefer not to rehash the loss.”

“I get that,” Simon said, glancing between them. “I’m not here to stir anything up, but I would like to look into Meredith Prescott’s disappearance. Based on what little information I’ve gathered, the woman no longer exists.”

“And you think what? That she’s in hiding?” Reese stated.

“Or dead?” Brantley added.

“Yes,” Simon said simply.

“Which is it?”

“I won’t know until I start looking.” Simon gestured toward the door. “I was hoping to see if I could review any case notes you have.”

“On?”

“Everything. I’m looking for a thread to pull.

There’ll be something somewhere that leads me to what happened to Meredith when she vanished from her life.

It’s my understanding her family believes she left for greener pastures.

I want to start looking at where she went from the moment she walked away from them.

” Simon gestured toward the door. “And since you just took my investigator, I was thinking it’s logical to look to you for help on this. ”

“I’m pretty sure you started lookin’ into this before we offered Archer the job,” Reese corrected.

“Perhaps.” Simon grinned. “Still leaves me without an investigator.”

Brantley stepped forward, pointed at Holt. “Tell me what you know.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Keep it simple. Just the facts. I know you have them because you wouldn’t’ve confronted Travis otherwise.”

“The facts,” Holt said, shifting his feet.

Reese could tell he was uncomfortable, but he waited patiently, willing the man to push past it.

Holt took a deep breath. “As you probably know by now, I’m using Coyote Ridge as the backdrop for my next book. Well, for a series of books now that my editor’s on board.”

Reese wasn’t sure they were on the same page when it came to the facts they were seeking, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Anyway,” Holt continued. “The idea of a mystery unraveling in a small, tight-knit town that rarely sees any crime appeals to me in a big way.”

“Of all the towns on the map, you just plucked Coyote Ridge right outta your ass, huh?”

From his tone, Brantley didn’t buy it. Reese wasn’t sure he did either.

“It wasn’t a coincidence, no. When I learned about the small town Rafe grew up in, I researched it.”

Ah. Reese recalled hearing some chatter about Rafe Sharpe having known Holt from the time he spent away from here.

“As for how I came to learn about Kylie… When I’m coming up with the story arc, I like to draw from real events. In order to do that, I read a lot of true crime stories, listen to a lot of podcasts.”

Curious, Reese asked, “Is that how you met Simon?”

“Yeah. I contacted him to suss out some information on a book I was writing. He was helpful. We became friends.” Holt stood tall, his eyes glittering with renewed energy.

“Anyway. When I first started researching Coyote Ridge, I came across a news article about Kylie.” Holt pointed directly at Brantley.

“I’ve seen that look before. It’s the same one Travis got when I told him the same thing.

My book does not resemble Kylie’s story in any way.

Her story and the events that led up to her death have absolutely no bearing on my book. ”

“Go on,” Brantley urged.

“When reading about Kylie, I came across a few things that didn’t add up. Remember, unlike you and your team, I unravel a mystery backward, so there’s a good chance I’m simply seeing things that aren’t there.”

“You think?” Brantley quipped.

Holt continued. “But that’s the best way I’ve found to lay out the story. I need to know the ending, along with my character’s motivation so I can fill in the rest. But it was the ending of Kylie’s story that felt off to me.”

“Meaning?” Reese prompted.

“If I were to write the story…” Holt took a deep breath and looked between Reese and Brantley. “The end of Kylie’s story would’ve been the beginning.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Brantley asked, his exasperation evident.

“Just what I said earlier. I know it sounds crass, and I assure you, I don’t mean it that way, but her death felt convenient. At least based on what I now know about Meredith and the Southern Boy Mafia.”

“Makes sense,” Reese said, although he wasn’t sure it did.

Brantley’s gaze slammed into him .”The fuck it does.” He looked back at Holt. “You do realize that Kylie’s death isn’t a mystery, right? She was killed here. In downtown. In front of a few dozen witnesses.”

Holt nodded. “I know that. I also know Juliet Prince is responsible. And because Juliet was a dedicated journal writer, we even have her motivations. In her own words.”

Reese felt his chest tighten. Anytime he thought of Juliet Prince, he found it difficult to breathe.

“I’m not disputing that it happened the way everyone says it did. What I told Travis is that, based on what I came across, it felt to me like something was going to happen at that exact time. No matter what. Maybe even that exact place.”

Reese frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He flashed a wan smile.

“Doesn’t bode well for a writer, huh? But it’s true.

It’s like I can see the puzzle’s picture, but some of the pieces are missing, so it doesn’t completely add up.

It’s been bugging me. That’s why I reached out to Simon.

I asked him to look into it to see if he saw it the same way I did.

At the very least, he’d tell me if I’m way off base. ”

“Not way off base,” Simon noted, his expression serious. “But I did question his sanity at first.”

Yeah. Reese talked to Simon, and yeah, he knew Simon was going to pursue the story. The problem was, Reese wasn’t sure what story they intended to tell. Based on the information pinned to this wall, they were merely restating a story that had already been told.

Holt exhaled heavily, his tone serious when he spoke. “I definitely think there’s more to this story.”

“Which story?”

“The big one. The one that all these little pieces feed into.” Holt glanced around before looking at Reese again. “Meredith Prescott’s disappearance. The mob hit. The FBI agents sprinkled throughout this little town.”

Brantley stood tall. “What FBI agents?”

“Trust me, they’re here. Seems a little too coincidental that they’re popping up now after they tried to strong-arm Meredith Prescott into testifying.”

“Testifying? Because someone claims she saw Max Adorite kill a man?”

Holt’s eyebrows dipped down. “At the time, the FBI boasted they had a star witness who would bring down the Southern Boy Mafia once and for all. But before she could testify, Meredith disappeared.”

“How do you know Max didn’t eliminate her?” Brantley asked.

“We don’t know that,” Simon admitted.

“It would’ve solved all his problems, would it not?”

“Sure. I don’t think she’s dead,” Holt admitted. “If there were even a whiff of that, the FBI would’ve backed off.”

Reese had to agree with Holt. He wasn’t sure what Max Adorite was capable of, but someone would’ve noticed her absence.

Meredith would’ve had to sign the divorce papers.

And surely she’d sent birthday cards to her kids over the past decade and a half.

If she had disappeared off the face of the earth, they would’ve realized it.

Which meant finding Meredith was key to understanding what did or did not happen all those years ago.

“Hey, Archer,” Reese called.

“Yeah?” he replied a second before he appeared in the door.

“What’re your thoughts on this? Story? No story?”

“I think it’s a bit convoluted at the moment,” he said, glancing at the walls. “Too much information. But if we can narrow the scope and outline some of the data, I think we’ll find a pattern.”

Reese looked at Brantley, silently putting the ball back in his court. As far as he was concerned, he was all in.