“You’re gonna turn right on twenty-first,” Reese informed him. “Just past the Five Guys.”
Brantley smirked. “Should I stop for food on the way back?”
“Maybe.”
Brantley turned at the light.
“You’re gonna turn left on 9th. It’ll be the second cross street.”
They passed 8thStreet and down another block to 9th. Brantley had to wait at the light, and he felt his impatience gnawing at him. If they missed Decker, he was going to lose his fucking mind.
“Turn left on Twentieth,” Reese instructed. “Should be the first street you come to.”
At the light, Brantley turned left onto a narrow, one-way street. It was lined with parked cars and three- and four-story brick buildings—referred to as walk-ups—that were pressed together like pancakes. A couple of the buildings had scaffolding in front of them, signifying work was being done. There was a dumpster in the street in front of what looked to be a church. Most houses had steps leading to the front door, along with wrought iron fences blocking access to the basement and first-floor windows.
“It’ll be on the left,” Reese said as he skimmed the addresses.
They passed the church and then a small off-Broadway theater.
“Stop,” Reese barked. “This is three-thirty-four, so only a few down is where Decker is. There was a spot a few houses back.”
Thankfully, no one was behind him, so he backed up and parallel-parked in a small space between two Teslas. He turned off the headlights, and they sat for a moment.
“Let me scope the house first,” Brantley told him.
“I’m comin’ with you.” Reese turned to look at Tesha in the backseat. “Lay.”
She eased down into the lay position.
“Stay.”
Brantley knew she wouldn’t move from that spot until told otherwise.
Attempting to look like he was supposed to be walking down a residential street in the middle of the night, Brantley headed for the address JJ had given them. He stopped when he heard voices, keeping himself concealed behind a large tree.
Brantley glanced at Reese.
Reese nodded.
That was the house they were seeking. And those voices appeared to be coming from one of the lower floors. Maybe a basement apartment?
“Eddie, I told you, you can’t keep doin’ this.”
That was definitely Decker.
The response was muffled, but it sounded like a female voice.
“I promise it’ll be fine,” Decker insisted.
“You can’t make that promise. No one can,” the woman hissed. “And you can’t keep coming here. This is where I work. They depend on me to take care of their kids. If they see you…”
“I know,” Decker said, his tone less aggressive. “I’m sorry.”
“Please go,” the woman insisted. “And don’t come back.”
“Seriously? That’s how you’re gonna play this? After everything I told you?”
Brantley listened, hoping to hear Eddie’s voice. The only pieces he could catch were Decker’s and the woman’s.
