“What about the court date he missed?” I asked.
Spazz shook his head. “He has a couple of traffic violations but nothing recent. No criminal charges or court dates anywhere in the state of Tennessee.”
“If he’s not in jail, then where the hell is he?” Blakely almost shouted.
“Can you find a last known address?” I asked Spazz. “Or anything that might help us locate him?”
Spazz nodded. “I can try. It’d be helpful to have some more information about him—birthday, middle name, stuff like that.”
Blakely gave Spazz what she could, but it wasn’t much. “Sorry, we aren’t very close,” she admitted, sounding embarrassed.
“I’ll see what I can find and get back to you in a bit,” Spazz said before leaving my room.
“What now?” Blakely asked. She seemed completely lost.
“I think we need to go back to Stuff It so I can take a look at those guns. I also think we should move them back to the storage unit, along with anything else that might be problematic,” I suggested.
Blakely’s forehead wrinkled as she processed my words. “Are you saying we should go through the rest of his stuff?”
“It’s the only way to know for sure what you have in your office building. And we might come across something that will help us find him.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said and ran her hand over her face. “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” she sputtered, “because…because…”
“Because you wouldn’t do it to him?” I guessed.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Don’t expect people to treat you the way you’d treat them, especially family. It’ll only set you up for a lifetime of hurt and disappointment.”
“You’re speaking from your own experiences, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am,” I said and grabbed her hand to lead her out the door. I didn’t want to talk about my fucked-up family right then. In all honesty, I never wanted to talk about them, but I had a feeling we’d be discussing them sooner rather than later. She’d shared a part of her life with me, and it was only fair that I shared some of mine with her.
* * *
I could tellby the way Blakely was dragging her feet that she did not want to go through her brother’s things. I wasn’t sure if it was because she felt like it was a violation of his privacy or if she was afraid of what else we might find. Regardless, it had to be done, and it seemed like she’d at least come to terms with that on the short drive to Stuff It.
“Which ones have the guns?” I asked once we entered the apartment.
“Those two over there,” she said and pointed out the boxes.
I walked over and opened one of the boxes to peer inside. She hadn’t been exaggerating. It was full of handguns. I wasn’t about to touch any of them, but the ones I could see were clearly missing serial numbers. I took a picture with my phone before moving to the next box, finding it to be full of unmarked guns as well. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself and took another picture.
“What?” Blakely asked, causing me to startle. I hadn’t realized she was right beside me, watching my every move.
“Based on the amount he has and the fact that the serial numbers have been removed, I think it’s safe to say your brother is somehow involved in gunrunning.”
“If that’s true, why would he leave them here and disappear?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But whatever his reason was, it can’t be good.”
She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe this is happening. Why would he do something like this to me?”
“Let’s worry about the why of it later. Right now, we need to see what else he might have and get it back to the storage unit. Then, we can figure out what to do next.”
