“Maybe he’s on there but uses a different name. An old safety precaution from his military days.”

“Perhaps.” I shrug and slow down when I come upon a group of kids riding their bikes. “All I’ve found upon searching are a few grainy images of him pitching from his junior college and high school newspapers. The photo from his military award showed a stern, clean-cut soldier, mostly hidden by the bill shadowing his face. He could be any guy from anywhere.”

“You sure he’s still alive? I mean—”

“No obituaries. Not that I could find.”

“And your purpose again in doing this is what exactly? I mean, I see you trying to one-up Finn in the public display arena, but it sounds like you’re on a wild goose chase.”

“Where exactly should I go?” I ask, nipping in the bud this same damn line of questioning that I got from both Dekker and Lennox. I guess they’re doing tag team little-sister therapy, and I’m not here for it.

“Jeesh. Testy. Testy. You’re obviously still pissed at us for the meeting last week.”

“Not at all.” I feign indifference.

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “In that case—”

“That conversation is over. No need to rehash it.” My hands clench the steering wheel. “Where do you think I should look?”

“A bar.”

“What do you mean a bar?” I ask, breathing a sigh of relief when I see a decent-looking hotel. So far it has been slim pickings and not that I’m high-maintenance or anything, but—

“You’re silently freaking out about finding a place to stay, aren’t you?”

“No,” I answer too quickly.

“Because you’re distracted and I can all but feel your panic attack through the phone,” she teases.

“I am not having a panic attack. In fact, I just pulled into the parking lot of what looks to be a respectable one.”

“You are such a freak.” That has my spine straightening.

“I am not. Once you find a bed bug crawling on the pillow next to you in a hotel room, you’ll never look at them the same.”

“Jesus. Chill. I’m just teasing you.”

I exhale an audible breath and put the car in park. “Can we stay on track, please? Why do you say a bar?”

“It’s a small town. The bar is where the locals hang out. Where they’ll gossip. My bet is you mention his name and you’ll find someone who knows him or knows of him and so on.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” she says, and I can see her gloating smile through the phone. “But here’s the thing, you can’t go in there asking everyone about this guy.”

“Um, why not?”