All He Has Left(22)
Sitting there, Jake again thought back to about a half hour ago, when he’d encountered Dani in the alley behind the bar on Sixth Street. Using his new phone, Jake did a quick search for Dani online. He found a Facebook account that belonged to her. She now lived in Austin. There were various photos of Dani out and about with her friends around the city. There was no mention of her being remarried. He knew she had gotten married and divorced while living in DC. She’d aged well and was still every bit as attractive as she’d been in her twenties. He was not surprised. Dani always took great care of herself.
It felt surreal that a woman whom he’d once planned to marry was now actively hunting him down as part of the FBI. Could Dani possibly believe he had killed someone? Could she really suspect he was on the run because he was guilty? She had not raised her gun at him when given the chance. Why? Jake wondered if there could be any way that Dani might be willing to help him. But what was he going to do? Send her a Facebook message? A message like that would likely be traced to his new burner phone and put him right back into serious jeopardy again. He dismissed the idea.
Reaching into his pocket, Jake pulled out the bar napkin where he’d scribbled down Judd McGee’s home address. He typed it into a maps app on his phone. A pin hit the map about seven miles south from where he was parked near an eclectic community of old and new called Oak Hill. Putting the truck back into gear, Jake headed in that direction. As he drove, he kept staring down at his phone, hoping to see a reply from Piper. But nothing happened. It was a Hail Mary, and he knew it.
Within ten minutes, Jake found himself driving into a middle-class neighborhood of one-story brick homes that were all likely built thirty-plus years ago. Most of them kind of sagged in various ways. He navigated the streets until he got toward the back of the subdivision. The closer he got to the pin on his phone map, the faster his heart began to race. A mix of hope and fear. All the houses sat side by side on tiny lots. If Piper was still being held inside a barn, she wasn’t here—and that was disconcerting. Jake finally pulled to the curb a half block away from a white brick number with a familiar-looking pickup truck parked in the short driveway. He recognized it as the same one Judd used to drive last year. He was in the right place. He searched up and down the street but did not spot a black tow truck anywhere.
Sitting there for a moment, Jake studied the house and tried to sort out his plan. Through a front window, he could see lights on inside. Someone was home. Was it Judd? Jake got out of his truck and as calmly as possible walked up the sidewalk toward the front of the house. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest with each step. There wasn’t much activity on the street. It was late. No kids out playing. No one walking dogs. Someone looked to be working inside an open garage a few houses down the way. Jake slipped past the truck in the driveway and then cautiously poked his head around to try to peer through the front window. A small study. Nobody was in it. But Jake could hear noise from deeper in the house. Sounded like a loud TV.
Jake had no plans to use the front door, of course, so he slipped around to the side yard and made his way up to a wooden gate to the back. He wondered if Judd would have a dog. He didn’t enjoy the thought of coming face-to-face with a rottweiler or the like right now. But he would certainly chance it. He flipped the latch on the gate, cracked it open, and then slid into the dark backyard. Then he crept along the side of the house and peeked around a corner. It was a small, barren backyard. There were a couple of nets hung up in trees with footballs lying around in the grass. Thankfully, no signs of any dogs anywhere.
Jake scooted along the back of the house, under a window, until he was a few feet away from a tiny back patio with two plastic lawn chairs, a rusty grill, and a plastic garbage can overflowing with crushed beer cans. Jake now had a clear view into the family room through an oversize window. A large TV showed a football game. And there was Judd McGee, slouched in a leather recliner in front of it, wearing only a pair of blue jeans with no shirt. A TV tray next to the recliner was littered with beer cans. Jake didn’t see anyone else in the house but then noticed a light was on in a window on the other side of the patio. Was Judd’s son, Quinn, home? Jake hadn’t noticed the boy’s truck out front. He watched as Judd suddenly got up out of the recliner and made his way down a hallway toward the location of the light.
Crouching down, Jake carefully scooted across the yard and over to where he could see the light on inside. It was likely a bedroom, but the window was covered with cheap blinds. Still, he had a small sliver of a peek inside. And what he saw sent a jolt right through him: Piper! He’d found her. He couldn’t believe it. She was right there in front of him, sitting on a bed, back to the window, arms tucked around her legs in a tight ball. Judd said something to her with a scowl, turned off the light, and then shut the bedroom door.
With his adrenaline kicking into high gear, Jake raced over to the back patio door. This time, he wasn’t sneaking around. The patio door wasn’t locked. Not that it mattered—Jake would have knocked the damn thing down to get inside right now. Judd was in the process of sitting in his recliner again. Opening the door, Jake rushed into the house ready to do whatever necessary to rescue Piper from this nightmare—and from this monster of a man.
From his recliner, Judd McGee turned at the unexpected intrusion, muttered, “What the hell . . .”
But before Judd could even make a move, Jake lunged at him. They both toppled over the recliner onto the tattered carpet. Filled with rage, Jake jumped on top of Judd. His right fist hit the man solid on the jaw, knocking his head sideways. Jake followed that up with a left and then another right. Judd was not putting up much of a fight. He just tried to hold his hands up in front of his face to keep from being punched. The man smelled like he was drenched in alcohol.