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“He’s young—maybe he got into bad credit card debt?”
“I don’t know. Possibly. But this doesn’t feel like Jordan. I know he’s still basically a kid, but he was brought up to be cautious, and getting into debt doesn’t seem like something he’d do—not when he’s got a decent salary.”
A year ago, Jude had helped him move into the apartment. They’d borrowed a truck from their uncle and loaded it with Jordan’s bed, dresser, and a couple of shelves he put his DVDs and video games on. The whole process had taken less than two hours and only one trip with the truck and Jordan’s car. It was just a tiny one-bedroom place, but Jordan had been over the moon. The apartment building was in Oakley and five minutes from the expressway. Jordan figured that it was only fifteen minutes from where he played intermural basketball in the winter and ten minutes from where he played softball in the summer. A movie theater was another ten minutes away. To him, it was the perfect location.
Jordan’s joy had been a palpable thing in that apartment that day. He was taking the first steps into adult life—his own life—and he couldn’t wait. How could Jude have missed things going so wrong for him?
Jude cursed and ran his hands through his hair. “But I haven’t been paying attention. I noticed he’d missed a few dinners but didn’t think anything of it. I haven’t really seen him much for months, so I have no idea what’s going on in his life.” The guilt felt like a lead weight in his gut.
“Hey,” Snow said, coming close. “He’s twenty years old and has a social life, and you’ve been working a lot of long hours. This isn’t your fault.”
“But I should know what’s going on in his life.” He waived at the empty wall. “I should know why he can’t seem to afford even a television. Fuck!”
Snow grabbed him and pulled him into another hug. Jude frowned and pushed him away. “Sorry. Just not now, okay?”
He ignored Snow’s frown and turned to go back into his brother’s bedroom. There wasn’t even a bedside table to snoop in. He grabbed a backpack out of the closet and threw it on the bed. The dresser held only clothes, so he tossed soft sweat pants and T-shirts onto the comforter next to the backpack. He went into the tiny bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, but there was nothing in it other than the toothbrush and deodorant he snatched up to add to the items he was taking to the hospital. His brother didn’t even have ibuprofen—nothing to tell him anything about what was going on in his life.
Frustrated beyond all reason, Jude packed up the few things, adding socks and not feeling bad about digging around in that drawer. Still nothing. His brother had absolutely nothing in his small apartment that could clue him in to what was going on.
He angrily snatched up the backpack and walked back into the living room where Snow still stood, a thunderous frown on his face. He didn’t care if he’d angered the man—his skin was crawling with a mix of worry, fury, and confusion, and he felt like clawing at it.
Someone had beaten and shot Jordan, and he could only picture what that must have been like for Jordan. His terror. His pain. Nausea slammed into his stomach, and Jude stopped moving and closed his eyes. This was bad. He opened his eyes and looked around the barren room before meeting Snow’s eyes. “There is something really wrong going on in my brother’s life. I can feel it.”
“I feel it, too,” Snow said quietly. “Either he’s spending more time living somewhere else, or he’s sold all his belongings. Either way, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own life, I would have sensed something.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this, Jude.”
“I sure as hell can. I’ve spent most of my life caring for that boy, and just look at this.” He pointed to the empty table. “Even his games are gone. Every one of them and he loved those stupid things.” A sick, bleak feeling joined the nausea. “We have to keep this from my mother. I’m going to find out what’s going on in my brother’s life.”
“We’re on vacation, so we have the time.”
He couldn’t even feel bad that their plans had been destroyed. All he could think about was Jordan and why his home looked like this.
“Jude…” Snow started.
The hair on his arms stood up at that tone. He knew that tone. The clever surgeon’s mind had pinged on something. He looked back to find Snow slowly walking to the center of the living room, his eyes sweeping over everything quickly.
“Where is Jordan’s cell?”
