He’s here. The man with the tattoos. He’s here.

She backed down the stairs, surprised to see a pistol had appeared in Michael’s hands. Where had that come from?

“Move it,” he hissed at her.

She turned and ran. Locking herself inside the SUV, she ducked behind the dash the best she could while keeping an eye on Michael.

Chris? Oh dear God. Is Brian hurt?

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she could hear the tattooed man’s voice in her head. Goddamned bitch! Her thighs quivered from the awkward position, and her torso started to shake.

Michael tried the doorknob to the house. Then opened the door.

No! Do NOT go in, Michael!

With his gun stretched out in front of him like a character on a cop show, he entered the house.

Jamie stopped breathing, her ears straining for any sound outside of the pounding of her heart. Her gaze stayed glued on the open door, occasionally darting to the sides of the house, checking for surprises. It felt like ten minutes, but it was probably thirty seconds before Michael reappeared, his stance relaxed. He scanned the outside of the home and surrounding brush, and then he waved her out of the vehicle.

“No one’s here.”

Legs shaking, she opened the door but simply sat in the passenger seat. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her weight just yet. He came over, the gun tucked in his waistband, and reached out for both of her hands.

“Your hands feel like ice.” He rubbed them between his. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed you out of harm’s way.”

“Yes, you scared the hell out of me!” Jamie blew out a breath. “God damn it. That’s twice in two days I’ve been rattled like that.” A full-body quiver shook her in the seat. “No one’s here? What’s inside?”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “The place has been torn apart. But there’s no sign that anyone was hurt. I think your brother split first.”

“Maybe he trashed it to confuse people.”

Michael shook his head. “Someone ripped up some kid’s drawings and deliberately left them on the floor in the kitchen. It’d take a lot for a parent to act like that, I think. Only someone who was really pissed that they didn’t find what they wanted would do it. And there’re no toothbrushes in the bathroom. Most people grab their toothbrushes when they leave.”

“We need to call the police,” Jamie said. Her mind reeled with images of the tattooed man hurting her nephew and brother. “Oh God. I hope they’re safe.”

“I’ve got Sheriff Spencer’s number. I’ll report it directly to him. And I’ll let Callahan know that we’ve hit a dead end here.”

“Did you see any pictures of Brian? Were there any pictures of the two of them?” Jamie was suddenly hit by an overwhelming urge to see her nephew’s face.

Michael thought for a second. “No, I didn’t see pictures. Wasn’t looking for them.”

She looked at the house. “Do you think I could go in? I won’t touch anything. I just need to look…”

“Not a good idea, princess. There could be some evidence in there that’d lead the police to Mr. Tattoo. Let’s not mess it up.” Michael thumbed through his phone contacts.

“I’ll just check the walls and look around. We’re so close, it’s killing me to be this close and not see them,” she pleaded. “Pictures could help us identify Brian if we see him without Chris.”

Michael held her gaze and then reached to softly touch her cheek. “I’d want to do the same. Okay, but touch nothing. Watch where you place every foot. Don’t step on anything or shift anything. No opening drawers or cupboards. And I’ll be right behind you.” He lifted the phone to his ear, and Jamie could hear a faint ring.

With unsteady legs, she made her way into the tiny house. Michael was right. It was trashed. And eerily reminiscent of the mess in her own home. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she forced it down, focusing on not stepping on the debris on the floor. As if from far away, she heard Michael talking to Sheriff Spencer. She continued her slow trek.

There were no pictures. She stood at the doorway to Brian’s room. The room told a story of a boy who loved outer space. Everywhere she looked there were science books on space or fiction that took place in space. There was a hanging model of the solar system and movie posters of space movies. She smiled at the poster of the Muppets from Pigs in Space. Chris loved that segment of the old TV show. She had, too.

“There’s something I haven’t seen in forever. Pigs in Space.” Michael spoke directly behind her. “My brother and I used to watch that.”

“Me too.” Jamie turned and tried to smile at him. “There’s nothing here. I thought for certain there’d be pictures of Brian. Chris avoids pictures, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t take pictures of his son.”

“Dunno.” Michael frowned. “We need to head back to Demming.”

Jamie didn’t like the grim expression on his face. “What’s happened?” She held her breath. Not Brian, please don’t tell me something has happened.

“Spencer is at a murder in town. His first murder in eight years, and he says the victim’s a friend of your brother.”

Three sheriff’s cruisers and one state police vehicle crowded the street in front of the town’s bakery. It looked like a simple concrete block building. The only clue to its purpose was the sign that read BAKERY painted over the door. Locals scattered about the sidewalks, talking, pointing, and wiping at tears.