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I followed, surprised when Malcolm pounded on the solid front door with the meaty flesh of his fist. When there was no response after a few seconds, he pounded again.
I wandered over to the driveway, regretting my decision to involve Malcolm.
He pounded again, this time shouting, “Eddie. Open the door.”
The single-car garage door didn’t have any windows, but I turned the corner and saw a door on the side of the house. Nine panes filled the top half of the door. I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, then shone it through the glass. The light revealed an empty garage.
Fuming, I went back to the front and found an impatient Malcolm on the front porch.
“He’s not here,” I said in a flat tone, giving him a dark look. “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded, his eyes blazing. “Why would I leave the bar if I knew he wasn’t here? Why would I waste nearly an hour of my time?”
“To throw me off?” I asked, moving closer. “You had plenty of time to warn him.”
“Warn him about what?” he shouted, descending the steps toward me. “That you’re going to interrogate him about God knows what?”
“Does Eddie Johnson work for you?” I asked, a few feet from him.
He shook his head as though to clear it. “You’re the one who told me he works at the school, which means you know where he works. What the hell do you think he does for me?”
“Get you information.”
“About what?”
Shit. I’d already told him too much. I took a step back and ran my hand over my head.
“What did you plan to ask him?” Malcolm asked in an ominous tone.
I shook my head.
“You’re not conducting an official investigation, so there’s no reason you can’t share it with me,” he said, his voice tight. “You think you have something on him. What?”
“He was spending time alone with Ava at school,” I shot back. “Maybe he was grooming her.”
He released a short laugh. “Eddie? No fucking way.” He marched up to the door and pounded again. “Eddie, it’s Malcolm. Open the fucking door.” He waited a few seconds, then lifted his right foot and kicked the door next to the handle.
Cracking wood filled the night air, but the door remained closed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted.
Ignoring me, he kicked it again, and this time a large crack appeared where he’d kicked it. One more kick had the door swinging inward. He pulled a small pen-sized flashlight out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on, shining it into the open doorway before he took a step inside.
“You can’t just go in there! That’s breaking and entering!”
“You gonna call the cops on me?” he asked from inside. A few seconds later, he grumbled a few curse words. “Get in here.”
An inner battle waged inside me. Sure, I was breaking rules by looking into Ava’s disappearance, but I hadn’t broken the law. This would be crossing the line.
Did I really want to do that? Wouldn’t that make me the bad person everyone thought I was? Then again, they already thought it, so what was stopping me?
I stood on the step and stared through the open door. I could see a light in the back of the small house, and I knew Malcolm had found something.
We had to be careful. Depending on what we found, we could be implicated. Chief Larson would be happy to toss us both into jail. But I hadn’t come this far to turn back now.
“What did you find?” I asked, stepping inside.
Malcolm stood in a small galley kitchen, shooting a pissed expression at me, then flicked his light to the back door. The glass was broken in a small pane on the door, just above and to the right of the doorknob.
