“How the fuck can you be so cool about this?” Baz jerked away from Brantley and thrust his hand through his hair. “She’s fucking missing.”
If Baz actually paid attention, he would realize Brantley was anything but cool. He was damn good at pretending, though. From the moment he’d received Baz’s call, he’d been on edge. Now, as he patiently waited for Sheriff Endsley to finish taking witness statements and gathering as much information as he could to start the investigation, Brantley was pretending he wasn’t about to lose his shit. It wasn’t going to help the situation. And it wasn’t going to ease Baz’s fear. The man had every right to be worried since, as of now, they had no idea where JJ was, who had taken her, or why.
Baz’s eyes kept shifting to Brantley.
“What’s on your mind, Buchanan?” Brantley asked, feigning nonchalance.
Baz stopped pacing. “I know who did this.”
Brantley frowned. “Who?”
Baz exhaled. “There was this kid. At the grocery store last night. A creepy guy. Young, stocky build. No more than twenty. He approached me and asked—”
“If you knew Molly,” Brantley interrupted.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Brantley hadn’t even thought about the guy they’d encountered at dinner the other night. It had been an awkward interruption to an otherwise pleasant meal.
“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know Molly?”
“Molly who?”
“Just Molly.”
Brantley frowned and looked at Reese. He turned back to the kid. “No. Can’t say I know a Molly. Sorry.”
The kid grinned like an idiot. Almost like that was the answer he’d been hoping for. “Cool. Thanks.”
“What the hell was that about?” Brantley asked, looking at Reese.
“No idea.”
Baz’s eyes were dinner plate wide, and he was obviously waiting for Brantley to elaborate.
Brantley frowned. “Red hair, dead eyes, pock-marked face, braces?”
“How’d you know that?”
Brantley explained their encounter with the kid at the diner.
“When was this?” Baz asked.
He had to think back. They’d come back from New York on Tuesday, and the migraine had hit on… “Wednesday night.”
He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that Baz was thinking the same thing he was: why the fuck hadn’t he said something before now?
Well, to be fair, Brantley hadn’t thought anything of it, and since his gut hadn’t given any indication that the redhead was a threat, he’d chalked it up to a kid thinking he knew Brantley when he really didn’t. And since Brantley did not know Molly—Baz had never introduced anyone to his one-night stand—he hadn’t made the connection at the time.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case for Baz.
“What did the kid say after that?” Brantley asked Baz.
“Nothing. He left. I tried to go after him, but he disappeared. When I left the store, I looked for him in the parking lot,” Baz explained. “I thought I saw him with Molly, but I couldn’t be sure. Someone left flowers in my truck. With a card.”
