Page 49 of Cassidy

His half brother must have been here. Maybe still was.

“I’ll call for backup,” Cassidy whispered back.

“No time.” He tightened his hand on her arm. “The phone provides reasonable suspicion and exigent circumstances.”

“That’s stretching the rule,” she said with a frown. He released her arm, fully intending to break in through the back door himself, when she quickly added, “Okay, fine. I’ll find a way to make it work. Just stay behind me.”

He was grateful she’d agreed to enter the building. She turned and made her way around to what was likely the kitchen entrance. The door was locked, but Cassidy kicked at the doorjamb—once, then twice, then a third time. There was plenty of power behind her kicks, and he had a brief image of her working out in gym clothes when the damaged frame gave way. She pulled it open and peered inside. She took the lead because she was armed and had the flashlight. He stayed behind her as ordered, glad he was tall enough to see over her head.

The interior was dark, and the heavy scent of grease hung in the air. The interior was warmer than the outside temperatures, but not by a lot.Probably enough to keep the pipes from freezing, he thought. As they made their way through the kitchen, there were obvious signs that someone had been there.

Recently.

Empty food packages were strewn about, and dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. No signs of bug infestation from what he could see, which was why he felt certain the items had been left in the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine the bad guys hanging out here with Travis, hopefully sharing their food with the teen.

Cassidy held her flashlight along the top of her weapon, sweeping the muzzle from side to side as they walked through the kitchen and into the main restaurant bar area.

He was impressed with her thoroughness as Cass made quick work of ensuring the main level was empty. The phone on the table mocked him, but he didn’t reach for it. First, they needed to find Travis if he was still there. Cassidy checked both bathrooms, but they were empty. Glancing at him, she headed back into the kitchen toward the door on the far side of the room that likely led to the basement. Upon opening the door, he saw a steep staircase shrouded in darkness.

He almost called out to his brother, but Cassidy’s stealthy movements gave him pause. What if someone was down there waiting for them? Maybe even holding Travis at gunpoint?

He silently descended the staircase behind her, doing his best to follow her lead, stepping where she did to minimize the noise. The beam of her flashlight played along the wall until it ended. The pizza churned in his stomach, even though the darkness was a balm for his headache.

By the time they reached the uneven concrete floor, it was clear no one was down there. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or upset that Travis hadn’t been left behind, bound and gagged. The good news was that they hadn’t stumbled across his half brother’s dead body.

Cassidy played her light over the floor and the walls. “No sign of a disturbance, no blood or bindings to indicate anyone was held down here.” She glanced back at him. “Could be we’re on the wrong track in assuming Travis was here.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure he was. Let me examine the phone. If the number matches the one that called my office, we’ll have our connection to Travis.”

“We suspect the caller was Travis, but he never identified himself, so it could have been someone else,” Cassidy said in an annoyingly reasonable tone as they headed back up to the kitchen. “A friend Travis trusted enough to provide the necessary information to make the call.”

He understood she was being pragmatic, making judgments based on evidence, not his gut feelings. Sure, anything was possible, but the most likely scenario was that Travis had made the call.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, he strode straight to the main dining and bar area. He would have scooped up the phone without thought, but Cass stopped him.

“Don’t touch it,” she warned. “The phone is evidence that needs to be examined for fingerprints.”

“I just need to see the number,” he protested.

She pulled a small plastic bag out of her pocket and used it like a glove to pick up the phone. She gingerly turned the device so that he could just barely read the serial number on the back.

It took him a minute to visualize the phone number and serial number of the phone that had called his office. The actual phone number wasn’t on the device, but the serial numbers were a match. “This is the phone used to call my office,” he said with certainty. “The caller definitely was here when he reached out to me.”

She nodded. “Which is why the phone was left on the table in plain sight. Whoever is involved wanted us to know that they discovered the distress call was made and that they’ve left the hideout to prevent us from finding them.”

Hearing her state the obvious hit hard. It wasn’t good that they’d taken off, leaving the phone behind. He didn’t want to imagine the worst, but these guys hadn’t balked at shooting at him and Cassidy. He knew they could take their anger and frustration out on Travis by physically beating him. Were they angry enough to kill him?

What if they found these guys too late to save his brother?

“Don’t, Gabe,” Cassidy said, reading his thoughts. “If they had killed Travis, I’m sure they’d have left him here. They didn’t, which leads me to believe they’re kept him alive for a reason. Because they need his skills, or they need him to draw you out. I suppose it’s possible they’re waiting to get to you before taking any further action. Hard to say for sure since we don’t have a clue what this is about.”

“No, we don’t.” And he desperately wished they did. “They must want the code that was tucked away in my freezer. I need to understand what it’s for and soon. Before things spiral any further out of control.”

She offered a reassuring smile, then stepped back to call the local police. He listened as she identified herself as an MPD officer who needed assistance to investigate a potential crime scene. As she explained what she needed, he glanced around the messy kitchen, knowing better than to touch anything, but searching for clues just the same.

“We’ll get the crime scene techs out to search for prints,” Cassidy said when she’d finished making the call. “I highly doubt these guys wore gloves the entire time. There’s bound to be a partial print somewhere.” She frowned. “Although connecting prints to the bad guys and not the previous bar owner’s employees may add a layer of complexity.”

“These wrappers look recent,” he said, bending over to sniff at the grease that clung to the paper bag. “French fries and burgers likely.” He didn’t remember enough about Travis to identify his favorite foods and wished for the hundredth time that his memory would return. “We don’t know how many people are involved, so it’s hard to say if they spent a handful of hours here or had been using this as a hideout since yesterday.”

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