“What?” Bullet asks.
“Anyone could have had a burner phone. We’re going about this all wrong.”
Ivy lifts his hand to his forehead, then lets out a grunt before he sits straight up. “We’re never going to get to the bottom of this. Whoever did this has not only been working on it, but they know what the fuck they’re doing.”
“Dante Barone, and I’m without a doubt positive this isn’t his first time. He probably schmoozed and manipulated someone, one of the women, to help him. She may not even have realized what was going on until she was ass deep into it all.”
I’m surprised when Heidi speaks up. “How do we get my best friend back?” she demands.
“We have to find out who has been talking to whom on the side,” I mutter.
“Fuck that,” Bullet snaps as he stands. “How about we do a little pop-up on every fucking person who works here. They should all be asleep, right? Won’t be hard to see cars in driveways.”
“That’s going to take a lot of footwork,” Ivy points out.
“I got the time,” I say. Then I jerk my chin toward Heidi. “You’re with me.”
After a phone call to Bennet, we’re able to get a printout of every employee’s address, though I'm sure we’re all violating about a dozen different laws. Bullet quadrants off each area of addresses and is able to give some to a couple of the guys who are back at the clubhouse, considering they’re not too far from where a small cluster of people live.
Then we take off.
A new group text is started, and we promised to keep each other updated with each place we check out. I don’t know if this is the best way to do this, but I also don’t give a fuck, because this is the only way I can think of that we can maybe, possibly find Millie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PIGGY
As the minutesand then hours tick by, Heidi and I are no closer to finding Millie, and both of us are feeling more and more defeated with each house we check out and come up empty-handed.
“How many more?” I ask.
I’m also becoming more exhausted with each passing hour. I worked all night long and haven’t slept. I’m going on twenty-four hours at this point. I also had to find a replacement for my shift tonight because there’s no way I could work another twelve-hour shift and actually do my job.
I’m fading fast as it is. Heidi is going to have to drive soon if we don’t find Millie.
“Just two. A bartender named Marty and Anna.”
Something about hearing Anna’s name again causes me to pause. I’m not sure what it is about her, but there is something that makes me question her. I don’t even know. I’ve only met her briefly, but there is just something.
“Let’s go to Anna’s,” I say. “Can you pop in the address?”
Heidi and I have a routine. I don’t even need to ask her. She’s already putting in the address that Bennet gave us, but I still ask so I’m not being a complete dick to her. The ETA is only ten minutes, and I’m glad Bullet did it this way, because each house we’ve gone to has been less than fifteen minutes from the last.
“This is such a suburban neighborhood,” Heidi murmurs.
She’s been looking up the areas on her phone, giving me the ins and outs, how it’s set up, and whether it’s the hood or not. So far, nobody has lived in the hood. Maybe hood adjacent, but not the actual hood. Which means they’re all getting paid a decent amount, so I don’t think Dante is paying the person.
Following the GPS, I turn down the subdivision’s entrance, and that’s when I really take in what Heidi meant. This is very suburban. Every lawn is green, maintained, and flowers are in their proper place in the flower bed.
There are rows and rows of two-story homes, minivans and SUVs in every single driveway, discarded bikes on manicured lawns. And every front porch is decorated in some sort of fashion.
Personally, it’s a little vomit-inducing, but whatever floats people’s boats.
We’re about halfway down the street when Heidi tells me we’ve reached the address. I look over to see a car parked in the driveway. It’s Anna’s. Her personalized plate can’t be mistaken.
“Well, she’s here. That’s her car,” I say, lifting my hand and pointing to the car in the drive.
Heidi snorts, no doubt reading the plate. “That woman is odd,” she says. Clearly, she gets the same vibes about Anna I do. Which doesn’t really put me at ease, yet also does in a way, because it’s not just my imagination.
