Page 24 of Before We Were Us

He changed after that stay.

He grew up.

I walk into my apartment a few minutes after five a.m. and toss my keys onto the counter.

Connor and I spent hours going over the entire area, pulling footage from surrounding business and combing through every video. We talked to the witnesses, and then made our way back to the station to analyze all our findings.

A black SUV with tinted windows and a partial plate 3611 was seen speeding away within thirty-seconds after the final shot. Two blocks over the same SUV slowed at a stoplight, when two men jumped out and got into an awaiting red Challenger. The plates on the Challenger were obstructed.

Making my way down the hallway, I step into the bathroom and flip on the shower. I should be used to little sleep, but this particular scenario feels like it hits a little closer to home.

I can’t shake the unsettled feeling.

Without further pause, I pull my phone from my back pocket and search for my brother's name.

I should feel bad for waking him, but honestly I’m not sure I can get through the day without hearing his voice.

“You better have a great excuse for waking my ass up before six in the morning,” he grumbles. Myles has never been a morning person.

“I just really needed to hear your pretty voice.”

“Fuck off,” he groans, making me laugh.

“How are things?”

“Jensen,” he states my name a little more clearly now. “It’s five-thirty-eight in the morning. I know you didn’t call me to check in. So what’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

I know he’s referring to our mother and two sisters.

“Naomi, Jenna, and Mom are all good.”

He remains quiet for a few seconds, and I lean back against the sink's edge.

“You?” he finally asks and I take a deep breath.

“Found Riley Anders tonight.” My chest grows tight.

“What do you mean you found him?”

I don’t answer, knowing that if I don’t Myles will get what I mean. Someone saying the words felt impossible. I hate that the first thing I thought of was it being my own brother when I saw Riley’s face. If things hadn't changed, it very well could have been and the idea of something happening to my little brothers kills me. Hell, something happening to any of my family makes it hard to breathe.

“How?” he finally asks, long gone is his attitude for waking him.

“Gunshot.” I release another breath.

“I saw him about a month ago.” Myles' voice is low. “He was bragging about living the good life, driving some beefed up Challenger. I knew it was all drug money.”

“That's what I,” I pause, Myles' words registering in my mind. “Wait, did you say a Challenger?”

“Yeah, it was ridiculous, big ass tires and rims, so fucking loud he thought is sounded badass.”

“Red?”

“With a thick black racing stripe,” he adds and instantly I’m pushing off the sink and walking back toward the kitchen. Grabbing my bag, I pull out the file with the images and notes.

“I wish he would have had someone to pull him back like I did.” I get what Myles is saying, but my mind is now bouncing all over the place. Finding what I need, I pull out the photo’s of the Challenger on the darkened street. We pulled them all off of the bank camera several doors down.

I’d thought it was a shadow before, but now I can see it's a stripe. The same racing stripes that Myles described.

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