Travis waited while Simon unlocked the door. He followed him inside and scoped the place in three seconds. It was clean and neat, but he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.
“His research is in there,” Simon said, motioning toward a door. “On the right.”
“The bedroom?”
“There’s not a bed in there,” Simon noted with a smirk.
Taking another deep breath, Travis put one foot in front of the other and walked toward the room. He pushed the door open, reached to find the switch. The room brightened, highlighting a desk cluttered with papers and books on the left, a large leather chair pushed haphazardly out of the way. He stepped deeper into the room and turned his attention to the right.
That all too familiar tightness in his chest returned as soon as he saw the articles that were pinned to the wall. Several had photographs of Kylie; some had pictures of his children. And there was the one of Jessie and Kate that had made headlines after the funeral.
He swallowed past the knot in his throat and moved closer, skimming the various bits of information pinned to the corkboard squares. Most of what pertained to Kylie or his family, he’d seen before. He’d been obsessed after her death, trying to find reason for it all. It didn’t help; it only pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
Travis noticed there was one section dedicated to Max Adorite.
“I’ve started collecting information on him,” Simon said from somewhere behind him. “I think he’ll be the key to the story.”
“Good luck with that. I know Max. He won’t talk.”
“He won’twantto talk,” Simon clarified. “I’m good at my job, Travis.”
“Why does anyone care what happened to Meredith Prescott?” He flipped one of the newspaper pages. “The woman raised her kids and then bolted. It was a shit move, sure, but it’s more than some kids get.”
“I—”
“Who in the world gives a shit where she is? Her family has moved on. Dredging this up is only gonna bring back bad memories for Jessie and her father.”
Simon’s forehead creased. “What?”
Travis turned to face the man. “That’s what the story is, right? It’s about the disappearance of Kylie’s mother because she supposedly witnessed somethin’ she shouldn’t have? So fuckin’ what? She’s probably livin’ on some private island somewhere, drinkin’ piña coladas with her pool boy.”
“You think so?”
No, he didn’t. But he also didn’t care what happened to Meredith. Kylie had believed her mother had left them for greener pastures. There was nothing to make anyone think otherwise.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Let’s assume Holt’s on to somethin’. If Meredith went into hidin’ so she didn’t have to testify against Max, that’s her prerogative. Why wouldyoucare about a story that might be a dead end?”
Simon frowned. “I thought Holt told you.”
“Told me what?”
Simon canted his head. “Travis, Holt believes there’s a good chance nothing is as it seems. Not just Meredith Prescott’s whereabouts.”
“How so?”
“He’s convinced it’s a conspiracy.”
“By whom?”
“The FBI.”
“You think the FBI’s conspirin’ to take down the Southern Boy Mafia? That’s their job, isn’t it?”
“We don’t think it’s a sanctioned case.”
“So you’ve got rogue FBI agents?”
Simon didn’t respond, but Travis could see it in his eyes.
