“You mean are we keeping her because we want her for ourselves?”

I nod. It’s confronting when it’s so blatantly spelled out.

“Yeah, brother, same page, same sentence, same word.”

“Not sure where Dandelion’s head is but, well, one step at a time.”

Silence again fills the space and for the next ten minutes we are each lost in our own thoughts.

“First property is coming up here on the right.” The energy in the SUV shifts as we near the fenced off property with the big Russo Properties & Holdings sign in front.

Bastian pulls up in front. “This isn’t the one,” he says as he kills the engine, and we climb out.

“Too busy. Too public.” The neighborhood is bustling. I use the key Brady gave me to unlock the gate. We need to be sure. We walk through the fencing, then onto the site, which consists of a trailer containing a desk, a drip coffee machine with a burnt pot on it, and an ashtray with cigarette butts still inside. And dust about an inch thick. What was here has been torn down, so if there was a basement, it’s gone now.

“Let’s go,” Bastian says. “We’re wasting our time here.”

The second property is similar to the first although a little farther out of town. It has more privacy, and the structure hasn’t been demolished yet, but the basement is more of a crawl space, so we head to the third. This one is the farthest way but still not too far. It’s also the most private with a large, fenced-off lot. Just behind the fence is a run-down row of houses that reminds me of old horror movies.

We’re quiet as we walk toward the open door of the center house. There’s no trailer here. No office setup. The property had been bought eight years ago but never got as far as that. The lot itself is overgrown with weeds, and all that can be heard from the nearest neighborhood are muffled car horns and the occasional shout of someone. In other words, no one will be walking past this site unless they have reason to be here.

I glance at my brother as we enter. We split up—I go right, he goes left—and walk through the first floor. We don’t need to go upstairs. There are three basements, one for each of the houses. I use my phone to light the way down to one, but it’s small and crammed with old furniture that I can’t imagine anybody would have space to move in there.

Bastian and I meet in the middle. He shakes his head and our gazes fall on the entrance of the basement of this last house. The door here is intact, and although the deadbolt has been broken, it is about the only thing that hasn’t rusted in the place.