“So here are Zane’s DCFS records,” Asher says, slapping the folder down on the coffee table, and leaning back. He scratches at his cheek that’s dark with two days’ worth of beard. He looks haggard.
“Have you gone through it?” I open it, flip through the few pages. “What am I looking at?”
“Foster families and homes that took Zane in until he was adopted by Emma. Names, addresses, a few details here and there. Not much.”
I nod at Tyler as I flip through the papers, tracing the names with my finger. “Did you read these?”
“Had a look. No Wausau address.”
I grunt, leaning back, moving the papers to my lap. “That’s right. Nothing in that area. Maybe he confused the town with another. Here is an address in Waupaca, near Appleton.”
“But,” Asher says, “and check if I’m wrong, I don’t think all the addresses were listed. There are at least a couple of names without an address.”
“What? Shit.” I scan the documents, one by one. “Dammit, Ash is right.”
“Lemme see.” Tyler reaches for the folder, and I hold it just out of reach.
“Uh-uh. Wait your turn.” I frown at the documents, turning pages, tracking the names and addresses. “So many places. Goddammit, he sure was passed around a lot.”
Asher grunts, his gaze dark.
“And no Tyre, or Tyrell, or whatever his name was, either.” I rub at the crease between my brows. “Like you said. This isn’t looking good.”
“What if he remembers the name wrong?” Tyler says. “He wasn’t even sure about it.”
“Wasn’t sure whether it was Tyre or Tyrell,” I correct, “but there’s nothing even remotely similar to that name in here.”
Tyler sighs. “Dammit.”
That plants more doubts in my mind, though
. What if Tyler is on to something? We need Zane to look at the names without addresses, see if he remembers another name.
Assuming he remembers right, like Asher seems to believe.
“Where’s Zane? Is he coming over?”
“He said he was going to Damage Control to finish an ink job.”
“Is he feeling better, then?”
“Not sure. He took the bus to the shop, wouldn’t trust himself to drive the pick-up.”
Fuck. “Hate to break it to you, guys, but we still haven’t got anything to go on.” I check the last page. “There’s not even a health record for him. What the fuck. There’s nothing we can use. Whoever kept these files was fucking drunk.”
I bang the folder on the table.
“Glad to see you angry,” Asher mutters. “At last.”
“Unless something else is bugging you,” Tyler adds.
Damn these Devlin brothers. “Nothing’s fucking bugging me.”
“Right.” Tyler gets up to console a sniffling Scott who is being barred from touching the plastic cars and trucks. “Like we don’t know you, man. Did you fight with Tessa?”
I freeze. “What?”
“Heh, that was a lucky guess. What happened?” He picks Scott up and wipes his eyes. “Shh little buddy, Uncle Tyler’s here.”