Page 107 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

He doesn’t seem too upset because he finds another woman to hop on his shoulders within minutes. She falls right off as soon as her opponent makes one good shove.

“Looks like you’d have had some real competition,” I muse.

“Yeah, I think I would have crushed the poor guy’s head trying to stay on.”

“You want a go with me? You can crush my head any day.” I waggle my eyebrows for emphasis.

“You think you can hold all of this,” she motions to her body, “on your shoulders long enough for me to kick some scrawny girl’s ass?”

“You betcha.” I wink. “Easy.”

26

Brody

Caleb Davis. Twenty-eight years old. Barely finished high school. Didn’t go to college. Can’t hold down a job. Youngest of two children born to Heather Davis. Dated Sophie for over three years.

Since finding out about Sophie’s ex, I’ve discovered quite a lot about the two of them. Police reports that seem to have gone nowhere, past addresses, her high school. Evidence of her relationship with Caleb Davis is everywhere on his social media up until mid-February, when I assume she disappeared. He didn’t say anything about it, didn’t post about missing her, hell, he didn’t even change his relationship status. It still says he’s in one.

Coincidentally, his brother is in law enforcement. That explains the lack of follow-through when she called the police on his abusive ass. I don’t know what the final straw was or what made her leave, but I’m glad she did.

Building a way into her doorbell cam with backups coming straight to me was the easy part. Caleb isn’t staying in LA under his own name, so he must have some semblance of intelligence. I can’t find any listing for him anywhere and I can get into just about every hotel database that exists. They’re not as airtight as they’d have their guests believe.

Monday morning rolls around again and it’s back to the usual grind. I’ve been trying to make sense of some of the logs Mel sent me weeks ago since she hasn’t officially taken itaway from me. The information is written in some kind of code that even I can’t decipher. I plan to tell her as much later today, but until then, I’m still on the project.

My phone buzzes beside my keyboard and I glance down to see Isla’s name.

I roll my eyes but type out a quick yes and ask if she wants to call me. I hate having long text conversations. Phone calls aren’t much better, but Isla isn’t the talker our other sisters are.

When the phone rings, I answer it quickly.

“Whatcha need, Isla?” My tone is light. She knows I’d do anything for her.

“I have a date tonight.” She’s excited, but I can hear something else in her voice. I’m sure it’s just nerves.

“Awesome, would I approve of him?”

“Probably not,” she snorts. “But all my friends are sorta busy, so they can’t do the emergency call. Would you do it?”

“Emergency call? What’s that?”

“You know,” says Isla, clearly not wanting to take the time to explain. When I’m silent, she does so. “It’s when a girl goes on a date, but asks her friend to call her a half hour in or something with an emergency. If the date is going well, the call is ignored. If not, it’s answered and uh oh! Gotta go!”

“Does every woman do that?” I wonder aloud, recalling that Sophie got a phone call during our first date and ignored it. It makes me smile to think that’s what it was. She was enjoying herself enough to ignore the call.

“Every womanI’veever met.”

“Right, well, what do I say?”

“You don’t even really have to say anything,” says Isla. “You can just call and put the phone down and I’ll do the rest.”

“Well, that’s easy.”

“I know. So just set an alarm for like 6:36 or something. That way it’s notright atthe half hour mark, you know?”

“You got it.”

“Oh and Brody, I’m fuckingfurious with you.”

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