Page 26 of Ground Truth

He reached into his pocket for his phone and pulled it up. He handed the phone to Drake, who texted the information to himself.

“I gotta get back to the front gate,” Harris said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in that general direction. “You guys want me to get you added to the visitors’ log so you can look around and talk to people while you’re here?”

Gaspar replied, “We’ve run out of time for today.”

“Yeah, long drive back to Miami,” Drake said. “We’ll just take a quick pass by the former Reed house now. We’ll call ahead next time.”

“Okay. You’ll let me know if we can help,” Harris said before he returned to his golf cart.

Drake and Gaspar watched him drive toward the front gate as they climbed into the SUV. The nav system talked them through the winding streets to the house on Hummingbird Lane where Dr. and Mrs. Reed had last lived.

“Nice place,” Drake said, slowing as they passed a large stucco home with a terra-cotta tile roof.

“There must be thousands of homes just like this all over Florida,” Gaspar replied. “Relatively new construction. About four thousand square feet. Large lot. Manicured lawn. Pool and lanai in the back.”

Drake grinned. “Everything’s bigger in Texas.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gaspar replied.

The garage doors were closed and there were no lights on inside. Similar houses on all sides and across the street were occupied, so there could be plenty of good intel behind those suburban doors. Neighbors always knew more than they should.

“Sorry, Drake. But I’ve got to get back,” Gaspar said, hitting the reverse route button on the nav system. “There’s nothing more for us to do here anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess Flint’s back from Italy, too. He’s texted me several times already,” Drake replied, as he headed for the southbound turnpike.

“But would you work your magic on Greta’s digital life and see if you can find anything else I can try to track down?” Drake glanced across the console toward Gaspar. “Hanna’s a good kid. I’d like to know I did everything I could to help her before I give up, you know?”

“Probably makes sense to investigate Greta’s husband, too,” Gaspar replied, nodding. “Transplant surgeons shouldn’t be hard to track. We can get some background on him, anyway. Give you a place to start.”

-

Chapter 15

Houston

Flint stared straight through the windshield without really watching the road ahead. He was a little surprised to feel a tightness in his chest as he thought about Scarlett’s question. What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

Until a few months ago, he’d have said he had zero interest in finding his birth parents. Even now he wasn’t sure he cared.

Flint had no idea who his father was. Not really. He had his suspicions. Nothing more.

But his suspicions alone were more than enough. There were advantages to being an orphan. As an adult, anyway. The freedom from family drama was a definite asset.

He could choose and create his own family if he ever felt the need for one. Which, quite honestly, he hadn’t. Not yet anyway. Maybe if he met the right woman, he’d feel differently someday.

Scarlett slowed the big SUV and made a right turn onto a well-traveled street in an older industrial area. Probably first constructed in the 1950s, he guessed, given the lack of style and the exterior conditions. Cracked pavement, rusty fences, flat roofs.

Several of the buildings along this street had big smokestacks probably grandfathered into current environmental laws, given the amount of smoke they spewed into the air.

Scarlett followed the navigation system’s directions to an old concrete block building surrounded by an eight-foot rusty chain-link fence.

A faded sign posted at the gate saidFrazier’s. Nothing else. Not even a phone number. Flint guessed mostly service trucks of one kind or another passed through this way. Deliveries and removals probably.

There was nothing remotely comforting about the place. Flint guessed that grieving relatives never came here. This was where the business of cremation occurred when families couldn’t bear to watch, and the dead were long past caring.

Scarlett pulled into the drive and waited at the gate.

Someone inside must have pressed a button, or maybe there was an electronic trigger. Either way, the gate slowly slid open all the way across the driveway and clanged to a stop.

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