Page 37 of Ground Truth

When the commercial jet landed in Atlanta, Drake handled the luggage and the rental car, and they were on the road. Traffic around Hartsfield Airport was at least as congested as any major airport in the country. Which meant it took a while to reach Dr. Phillip Reed’s old stomping grounds.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Flint asked.

“Sure. I know this place like the back of my hand. Every last Peachtree Lane and Peachtree Avenue of it. I was a taxi driver while I was at Emory. You knew that, right?” Drake claimed with a grin.

He avoided the bottlenecks and took the winding roads around high-traffic areas like a pro, so Flint wasn’t surprised.

“Hell, I didn’t even know you went to Emory. Why did I think you went to college in Texas somewhere?” Flint asked, his eyes concealed behind very dark sunglasses, which made the sunlight almost bearable.

He’d never seen Drake’s résumé. Never needed to. He’d learned all he needed to know when they served in the Marines together. Since then Drake had saved Flint’s bacon more times than he cared to remember.

“Because I did. But that was later,” Drake said with a grin. “I was at Emory for my first year before my mom said she wasn’t paying tuition for me to party and snatched me back home. I took a couple of years off and then, having grown up a little, got a job. I helped my folks pay tuition. After a while I finished out at the University of Houston before I joined the Marines.”

“Guess that helps explain why you’re a few years older than Hanna Campbell, too,” Flint said.

“Yeah. We were freshmen together. She was younger than usual, and I was older than usual.” Drake paused and gave Flint a side-eye. “Look, don’t think Hanna and I had some great romance. It wasn’t like that. I mean, she was the kind of girl I liked back then. Wild and crazy and fun and unserious with zero patience for books and learning. The best thing she had going was the ability to drink me under the table.”

“And you want me to believe you’ve matured,” Flint deadpanned.

“Yeah, well. You know. Leopards don’t change their spots.” Drake laughed. “Point is, Hanna was a girl I dated. That’s all. I dated a lot of other girls after her. She moved on, too. There’s hundreds of people I knew in college that I’ve never seen again and probably never will. Same as you and every other kid in college, I’d bet.”

“So why are you so interested in helping Hanna find her sister now?” Flint asked.

“It’s a challenge I guess.” Drake shrugged and wagged his head. “And, okay, I feel sorry for her. Sure, she was a wild kid back then. Truth be told, whatever happened between her and her sister was probably eighty percent Hanna’s fault.”

“At least,” Flint said straight-faced.

Drake grinned. “I did some dumb things when I was young and stupid, too. They didn’t land me in a North Korean prison or leave me debilitated with a chronic disease for the rest of my life. I just feel like Hanna deserves a break, you know?”

Flint understood. Mistakes were made. Bills were paid. Could be the six-word story of a lot of young lives, including his own.

Hanna was still young, and she should have a good life ahead of her. Maybe if they solved the puzzle of her missing sister, she could move forward.

Hell, if Greta was still alive, then even better. They could move forward together.

Flint knew too well that not many people got second chances like that.

Drake wanted to give Hanna what she had no right to hope for and Flint owed Drake debts he could never repay.

So here they were.

Simple as that. ’Nuff said.

Drake made one more turn onto yet another Peachtree Street. He drove halfway down the block and stopped in front of the house where Dr. Phillip Reed and his wife once lived.

It was an old neighborhood. The house itself was probably a hundred years old, at least. But it had been restored at some point within the past twenty years. Paint was fresh, lawn lush, flowers plentiful, porches inviting.

“Are we going in?” Drake asked, glancing toward Flint.

“We didn’t come here for a drive-by.”

“Why did we come here again?” Drake asked.

“Gotta start somewhere.”

“Yep.” Drake parallel parked near the house. He ambled across the street and up the paved walkway. He hopped two steps at a time up to the front porch.

Flint trailed a couple of paces, placing one deliberate foot in front of the other. He wobbled slightly. The sensation of missing pavement beneath his feet slowed his progress. When he finally reached the entrance, Drake had already rung the bell.

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