Jaxon nodded.
The grass at the side of the property was so overgrown that the chain-link fence gate wouldn’t close and was left open. I peeked in the side window and saw a cardboard box and a folding chair; in what I gathered was the living room, but it was otherwise empty. I hunched over and snuck under the window before rounding the back corner, where I found the yard void of any structure or signs of life.
“Backdoor is unlocked. I’m going in.”
“Copy that,” Jaxon countered over our radio. “The front door is locked.”
The house was small, with only one bedroom, so I didn’t need long to conduct a sweep of the place before I let Jaxon inside.
“Find anything?”
“The place is clear, but someone’s been squatting here. There’s a blow-up mattress in the bedroom, a garbage bag of clothing, and takeout containers in the kitchen.”
“God, this place stinks,” Jaxon coughed violently against his arm as we entered the kitchen for a closer look around, “and hasn’t been occupied long, if I had to guess.”
I’d gotten the same vibe. There were layers of dust and dirt on the hardwood floors and kitchen appliances, cobwebs on the light fixtures, and a musty smell that screamed for the place to be aired out.
“But someone’s been here recently. The leftover food in these containers looks only a few days old.”
“Whoever it is, is traveling light—or maybe this explains the lack of furniture?”
My head jerked around. “What?”
“It’s a receipt for a storage facility. Maybe the owner is moving?” He handed the slip to me.
“Anything is possible, but taking in this scene,” my eyes roamed over the mess on the counter, “and the fact that Montoya’s blood and prints came back as a match from the U-Haul, I’d say that’s one heck of a coincidence.”
“Agreed.”
“We need to check it out; it’s our only potential lead.”
Leaving the scene as we found it, we approached the backdoor when dispatch came through our radios.
“Calling all available units, requesting additional officer assistance at Autumn’s Storage Facility, four-two-seven Eckersley Drive. Be advised there’s a nine-zero-four in progress. Fire and EMS are already on scene.”
I immediately responded that we were in proximity and would be on the scene.
“I’ll drive,” Jaxon shouted.
“The fuck you are.”
He somehow managed to snatch the keys right out of my hand as we ran across the lawn while giving me the side-eye. As much as I hated to admit it, I was frantic and in no shape to drive, so I decided not to fight him over letting him take the wheel.
“You best drive like a bat out of hell, man, because if she’s there, trapped inside one of those lockers, and anything happens before I get to her, I swear to—”
“I’m on it.” The engine roared, but not loud enough to calm my adrenaline, making me antsier than fuck.
“Is your brother on shift?” I thumbed through my contacts on my phone before dialing his number.
“I haven’t talked to him since the bar the other night, but he should be.”
“Yo, what’s up?” Jameson’s voice greeted me.
“Are you at the storage facility fire?” I asked with urgency.
“This is Jameson’s phone. If you know me, then you know I don’t answer calls. Shoot me a text. Later.”
“Dammit.” I sighed. “Have you heard your brother’s voicemail?”
