Page 64 of Falcon

The officer tapped his pen on his knee. “I suppose. But if you don’t think it was him, is there anyone else you can think of?”

I swallowed and Falcon squeezed my hand. “I can’t think of anyone.”

The officer looked at Falcon for a few beats then back at me. “Right. Well, here’s my card,” he said as he passed it to me. “Where can I reach you with further information?”

“I moved. I just came back because I lost all my IDs. What hospital is my mother at?”

“She’s home. She was only there a few days. But I do need a way to contact you.”

“I’m not a missing person, and I can’t help with my mom’s attack.”

The officer puffed out his chest as he stood. Falcon stood as well, but the officer just smirked. “You folks wouldn’t be trying to make it hard on an officer, now would you?”

Falcon reached for his pen, so the officer handed him the notepad as well. He wrote something down and handed it back, then reached for my hand. “We’re going now.” He opened the door and with my documents in hand, we hustled out of the building.

Once in the truck, I put the papers in the glove box then threaded my hands through my hair and let out a sigh. As Falcon climbed into his side, he pulled his phone out. Seeing a map, I figured he was taking us to the highway to get away from here.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see my mom. Maybe it was best I let him navigate.

Chapter 38

Falcon

Daisy pulled out her phone and was surfing the internet, probably looking for details about her mom. I knew she left as soon as she was eighteen, but I didn’t know much more about it. Still, she seemed confused about the situation. She wasn’t out of her mind with anger or sadness, but she didn’t seem happy with the news, either. We had a little time before we had to turn around, though, so I decided to make a couple of stops before we headed back.

I had messaged Keys while we were still at the health department, and he got back to me fast with the info I wanted. The person I was looking for would probably still be home this time of day, based on the info sent, and I wanted to catch them privately.

Turning down a small road, I glanced at the neighborhood. It wasn’t even five o’clock, but the overcast sky made it seem later in the day. The small homes were all rundown and yards were overgrown. Some dingy toys were scattered around, even along the street. Slowing for a dog that was wandering around like it didn’t care if I hit it, made Daisy finally look up from her phone.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Pit stop.” I saw the number I was looking for and a small red truck was parked on the side of the dilapidated house. “Stay here and lock the doors until you see me.”

I left a .38 on the seat next to her just in case but tucked my Sig into the back of my jeans and my knife back into my pocket.

Her eyes went wide and she looked around. “Seriously, Falcon. That cop was already on my ass.”

I put my arm around her and kissed her temple. “I gave him the contact for the shop, not you. And like you said, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be right back. I’m sure it’s fine, just an unfamiliar neighborhood. I won’t be long.

Her blue eyes sparkled up at me and she grabbed the small handgun I left for her. I got out of the truck and locked the doors before I headed to the side of the house.

There was a curtain over the window, and when I tried the door, it wasn’t locked. I didn’t hear any movement, so I pushed the door open and glanced around before stepping inside.

What a shithole. I wasn’t sure where Daisy stayed before, but she wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood, so I figured it wasn’t here. She was so minimalistic and tidy; I couldn’t imagine her living like this.

Paper bags from fast food places and empty beer bottles littered the small living room. The floor creaked as I walked, but I wasn’t sure anyone was home, much less multiple people, so I doubted there would be a problem.

There was a small alcove that held three doors, so I popped my head around. One was a bathroom that hadn’t been tended to, probably as long as the house had been standing, with piss marks all over the seat and the floor around it.

The second door led to a room with a bed and a dresser, but it was empty besides the rumpled bedding and a pair of jeans on the floor. But the last door was my prize. A man about my age was laid out on top of the covers, in jeans and a t-shirt still holding a bottle of beer that looked to have spilled onto his shirt. His short blond hair was disheveled, and he had a patchy, short beard. The TV was on, but it was low and infomercials were playing. There were sheets hanging over the window keeping most of the light out.

I pulled my gun from my jeans and banged on the door jamb. “Wake up.”

The man jostled, the bottle falling from his hands as he sat halfway up, looking all over. “What the fuck?” he moaned before he laid eyes on me. “What? Who the fuck are you?”

“Stand up.”

He was still half asleep and drunk by the dazed look on his face. “Hey man, Joe’s not here. He’s got the money.”

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