She shrugged. “What does sorry do? Men like the Vitales, they don’t care about anyone but themselves. Killing people is part of what they do. I just wish my asshole brother had listened to me when I said that to him,” she sniffled hard, her breathing a stutter. “Is that all?”

I reached across the table and laid a hand on hers. “Could I look at his room?”

Abigail laughed. “What more could you want from me?” she snapped. “You come in here dredging up history that’s over two years old, and now you want to search his room? Well, guess what? There’s nothing in it. I donated what I could, sold the rest, and anything that’s left is in storage. Now,” she yanked her hand away from mine as her chair scraped against the linoleum floor, “get out of my house. I’m done. Unless you’re telling me that the son of a bitch and his family are either in jail or dead, do not come back here.”

I nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

Abigail escorted me to the door without another word. As soon as the door closed, I glanced over my shoulder at it. I could feel her eyes on me through the peephole, so I kept walking.

I waited until I was back in my car before calling Chelsea. She picked up, her voice cautiously optimistic as she greeted me with her usual “yo.”

“I need you to do your thing,” I said. “Abigail Grennan. She has a storage unit somewhere, and I want to check it out. Can you find it for me?”

“Faster than you think,” she said. “We should meet up for dinner.”

“Not hungry,” I muttered, ignoring the growling in my stomach. “I need some time to think.”

“Tex, you don’t sound good,” she said, her voice strained. “Please, let’s meet up for dinner, and we can talk about whatever’s going on. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

I loved Chelsea, but I wanted to be on my own for now. My mind couldn’t sift through the details if I had to talk to someone and put on a brave face, pretending I wasn’t scrambled and lost. And so far, I was very lost.

Brycen Grennan was presumed missing, but his sister thought he was dead. Was he? Or was he simply gone? Abigail said he liked to run away, to disappear. Two years was a long time to wander, but I would, too, if I had a mobster on my ass. Especially if it was after that photo was taken where Brycen looked as if he’d been beaten up pretty badly. Maybe he was smart enough to go and stay gone.

“Tex. I’m worried about you,” Chelsea said. “Whatever this is, you should drop it and move on.”

“Have you reviewed the hard drive yet?”