Page 20 of Secrets

Griffin, Bull, and Whiskey followed the directions sent by Sly to get to the old home in Chicago. Just flying into Chicago made them all itch. It was so crowded, and the traffic was an absolute nightmare to get through.

“I couldn’t live here,” said Bull, shaking his head. “Think about what this would be like in the winter. Everything covered in snow, people driving like idiots, and it would be fucking freezing. No thanks.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” smirked Griffin. He stared out the windows of the rental car and then frowned. “Hey, are you guys noticing how nice these homes are? I expected them to be simple ranch-style or townhome-style brick houses. I’mnot seeing that at all. These are nice homes in a very nice neighborhood.”

“I agree,” said Whiskey. “This isn’t exactly what I pictured even after Millicent told us about her house.”

They pulled up in front of a home that was boarded and sealed, but the lawn was cut, and it didn’t appear to be vandalized or trashed in any way. They had obtained permission from Agent Fowler to search the property, but the neighbors were immediately eyeing them.

“Good morning,” said Bull. “We’re with the FBI, just taking a look at the house.”

“Again?” asked the elderly man next door. “My wife and I have been watching agents go in and out of there for years. Never finding anything, never seeing anything they thought they’d see. Either they were terrible agents or there’s nothing there.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We weren’t with those men. We just want to take a look,” said Bull. “I promise we won’t disturb you or your wife.”

“Oh, it’s not that. I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “We just want it all to be done. I’m glad that little girl found a way to get away from her father and brothers. I never wish a man harm, but that was a man who deserved to die.”

“Did you know they were doing something illegal?” asked Whiskey.

“Didn’t take a genius to figure it out. The house was always kept up nice because they hired a man to make sure it met the neighborhood standards. He was smart enough to know he couldn’t stand out. It was the people who came in and out of there. Men dressed like those men were, weren’t up to any good.

“My wife, she worried about that little girl all the time. She didn’t seem to be abused, but you never know.”

“No, sir, you never know. You said the men were dressed in a particular way. How was that?” asked Griffin.

“Well, some of them were dressed in leather jackets and chaps. Pretty clear they were bikers. I saw their emblems and looked them up. They were gang members. I called the police, and they said they’d look into it, but of course, they never did.”

“The police never followed up?” asked Bull.

“Pfft! No. They never did anything to them. I finally called the FBI and asked if they would take my complaint. That’s when we noticed them following those boys and watching the girl.”

“Were you here the day the FBI got her out of the shed in the backyard?” asked Bull.

“I was. Damn glad too. Had I known she was in there, I would have gotten her out. I didn’t see them put her in there. They left, and I knew they were headed for trouble. One of them had a baseball bat, and the other had a crowbar. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

“Funny thing is that the father was nice enough when you saw him. Always waved at you, shook your hand, even helped me to shovel the walk in the winter. I guess he was good at playing the nice neighbor.”

“I guess they were. Well, we won’t bother you or your wife. We’ll just take a look and see if we find anything unusual,” said Whiskey.

As they pulled the boards off the front door, light filtered through the house. They set up several battery-operated lights, illuminating the house.

“This is not what I expected,” frowned Bull. “I mean, everything is dusty and musty, but the furniture is nice, family photos on the walls. It looks like a home.”

“Exactly,” said Whiskey. “This guy was either a genius or someone told him what to do. The whole set-up is strange. The neighborhood, the decent furniture and home, all of it.”

“Let’s spread out and see what we can find,” said Bull. He pointed to the walls and floors. “Looks like the feds opened the walls and floors at some point but repaired them. Must have thought there was money hidden inside the house.”

“They could have missed something,” said Griffin. He pulled out the small scanner that Code had given him and smiled at the other two men. “Portable x-ray machine that will go through wood, plaster, drywall, just about anything.”

“Aren’t you smart,” smirked Bull. “I’m gonna go take a look at the shed. If you hear something loud, it’s me tearing it down.”

The others laughed at their friend. He might be old, but he still held true to his nickname. He was a bull in every respect, and you didn’t want to fuck with him.

Opening the back door, Bull was immediately taken aback by the neat, clean yard. No trash bins, no cans tossed about, nothing. The patio was a concrete patio with a few chairs, a small fire pit, and even planter boxes that were no longer yielding flowers.

The shed looked relatively new, only a few rust spots at the corners. When he opened the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t seeing neatly lined tools on the walls, a work bench, and two comfortable chairs.

“What the hell?” he muttered. Either this was the most OCD criminal family he’d ever met, or something was wrong.

---