Chapter Twenty-Four

"…posted by Ricky Austry's girlfriend around the time that the two of them started dating. I can't find anything on Carl Swilling. He is almost as elusive as Shane Dawkins."

Brook quietly closed the door behind her as she followed Bit's gaze to the portable monitor. In the middle of the display was an old photograph containing three boys, ranging in age from eight to twelve years old. The picture had been taken on Halloween, if the costumes were anything to go by—a decaying zombie, a bloodthirsty vampire, and a fierce werewolf. Their makeup wasn't half bad, and it was obvious that someone had taken the time to help them with their outfits. Whoever had been behind the camera had captured a moment of mischief and excitement.

"The only one who is easy to make out is Mitch Swilling," Bit said as his gaze was drawn to the bag in Brook's hand. She set it on the table and began to unpack its contents. "He hasn't changed too much since then, but I figure this picture was taken a few years before his mother died from an overdose. I was able to reach someone else at social services, and since we had a warrant already in place, the woman forked over the files for Mitch Swilling's brothers. Once I explained the situation, I'm sure you'll be hearing from Dawkins sooner rather than later. By the way, he was in family court today, which was why you haven't been able to get in contact with him."

Bit tossed a pen back and forth in his hands as he began to wrap up the call. Brook took the time to crumple the white bag as she turned to study the picture that was to the left of Mitch Swilling's DMV photograph.

"Ricky is the youngest, which was probably why he took the Austry's surname. Carl was bounced around, fell in with some rough crowds, and never finished high school. I did manage to find his name connected with a call center for a wireless carrier. It's a small one, and they pay via a cash app," Bit said, pausing to hear Sylvie's side of the conversation. By this point, he had tossed his pen on the table and walked over to the food containers. "No address. Only a post office box located around thirty miles from here. I'm assuming Carl got one near his father's place so that he could pick up any mail. Mack Swilling made parole a couple of years ago."

Brook faced Bit, interested in hearing more about Carl Swilling. Her theory about Jason Bracco being the unsub was being pulled apart at the seams. She would still request that Bit look into him, as well as other employees at the bar and grill.

"Keep us posted, Little T." Bit pulled back his headset before readjusting his knit hat. He had already taken his meal back to his chair, but he didn't take his seat. "Those two are going to drive over to Ricky Austry's apartment. They're hoping to catch Mitch there. If he's not there, maybe Ricky can provide them with his brother's location. Oh, and Ricky Austry isn't our unsub. There are pictures on social media that provide him an alibi."

"What information came back on Mack Swilling?"

"The guy has been hopping from job to job. Constructions gigs, night shifts at warehouses, gas station clerk. You name it. There aren't many places willing to take a chance on an ex-con," Bit replied as he took the lid off his container. "Especially one convicted of armed robbery."

"You said that Mack Swilling lives thirty minutes from here?"

"Miles, so more like forty minutes with these roads." Bit ate a fry before wiping his fingers on a napkin. He then pressed a button on his keyboard, prompting her to focus on the monitor. "That is Mack Swilling's mug shot. Mitch is the spitting image of his father."

"But no photograph of Carl," Brook said, finding it difficult to believe that the man had been able to go half of his life without having his picture taken. "Do me a favor and look into Jason Bracco."

"The busboy at the bar and grill?"

"Yes. He hasn't been at work for two days. I had initially thought that maybe he was one of the Swilling brothers, but according to the bartender, Jason was raised in Crestlake. Oh, and run background checks on all the employees at the bar and grill who haven't worked there in past years. Extend that to the pub in town, as well as the coffee shop across from the boutique."

Brook's ringtone interrupted their conversation. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and opened the case. Agent Tirelli's name appeared on the display.

"Sloane."

"It"s Tirelli." His loud sigh summed up his reason for calling. "We're running in circles here. No one in Reggie Hollins' life fits your profile."

"Sylvie and Theo might be onto something, but we won't know until later today." Brook pulled her phone away from her face and noted the time. She then pressed the device against her ear. "Are you driving back today? Stop at the lake house and we'll catch you up on our end."

"It will probably be after eight."

"Then meet us at the pub in town," Brook said before disconnecting the call. She walked across the room and tucked her phone in her purse. "Bit, I'm going to drive to Mack Swilling's place. We'll see what he has to say about his middle son. With any luck, he'll have a picture."

"I'll text you the guy's address."

Brook could hear him tapping the keys on his keyboard. As she secured the strap of her purse over her shoulder, a chime alerted her that she had already received the information.

"Aren't you gonna eat before you head out?"

Bit"s concern was genuine.

"Enjoy both meals, Bit. I"ll grab something on the road." Brook strode to the door, picking up the keys that she had placed on the table. She paused as her hand rested on the worn brass knob. "Something feels…I don"t know. We're close. The pieces are there."

"Between you talking with Mack Swilling and Little T honing in on Mitch Swilling, something has to give," Bit said, wiping his fingers on another napkin. "I'll keep you posted, Boss."

"Meet me and Tirelli at the pub around eight."

Brook stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. She pulled her sunglasses down to settle on the bridge of her nose. The clouds were dispersing overhead, and the sun's rays were finally free to illuminate the area. She likened the scenario to her profile. The answers were there in fine print. All that was needed was a little light to guide them.