Maccon pulled the chain on the single-bulb light that was swinging in the center of the small, mold-covered space. The cobwebs and grime that blanketed everything weren’t going to help matters in the slightest. We both coughed as we pulled dusty flashlights off of a rickety shelf.
Glancing around, I finally saw the desk Jett referred to in the note. I pulled up the lid of the rolltop tucked back in the corner to find stacks upon stacks of research. There was everything from newspaper clippings to witness interviews, maps, and journals filled with notes.
“This is going to take a year to go through.” I sank onto the worn rolling chair and a plume of filth erupted into the air.
Maccon grabbed a map that was pinned to a small corkboard on the back of the desk. “This might be something.”
Unfolding it, I looked at the two circled sections with addresses written underneath numbered one and two. Both of them were within spitting distance of our location.
“Could it really be that easy?” I glanced over at Maccon as he shrugged.
“Do you know what Jett got roped for?”
I shook my head.
“I think you need to call that lawyer chick. That might be our first clue.”
I dug through the drawers. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the broad’s name.
“Help me look. I think her name started with an S or some shit like that.”
Of course it was in the last place we looked—taped to the back of a composition notebook in the bottom drawer.
I gripped the yellowing paper. “Sandra Nichols—that’s it!”
Even though it was eight at night and she probably wouldn’t take too kindly to me calling her, I didn’t care. I ripped my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed her number as fast as I could.
“Sandra Nichols,” her singsong voice answered after the first ring.
“Hi, uh, this is Reese Hardgrave. We met this morning.”
“Hello, Mr. Hardgrave. What can I do for you?”
“What are Jett’s charges?”
“You know I cannot disclose information about my clients.”
“That is public record. It’s not like I’m asking anything that’s a secret here. I’m just not at a computer right now, and I really need to figure this shit out as fast as possible.”
She sighed. “Breaking and entering.”
“Was it for 550 Lake Drive by any chance?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“Please. Someone’s life depends on it.”
“Reese, if someone is going to be hurt or killed, you need to call the authorities. I cannot help you.”
“Can you just tell me if it was for that address or not?”
“Good night, Mr. Hardgrave.”
Click.
“Bitch,” I exclaimed, leaning back in the chair.
“That was a fucking dead end.”