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"What did he find?" I peer over at Wes, whose narrowed brows express his confusion.
"I'm going to send you two photographs Nate was able to pull off our surveillance cameras. You will notice on the timestamp that they are from Saturday morning—around the time you met with Officer Martinez."
Natty was alone upstairs.
"Nate will explain everything to you later. He had to go back to the office since he left a meeting with two board members this morning."
I'm about to question why George can't give us the details when he adds, "I need to make a phone call in twelve minutes and still have to set up a secure line."
He is more cryptic than usual, but I let it slide—for now.
"Is he getting in trouble?" It's the second time my brother ran out of work for me.
"The alarm at his home was triggered, and he went to check on it."
I have to smile. I'm sure Nate actually triggered the alarm somehow to back up his story. Nonetheless, we are getting careless.
It takes less than ten seconds after George disconnects before a text message alert pops up. I click on the first picture and stare.
"MOTHERFUCKER." Wes’s shout echoes through the bathroom.
