Chapter 8

“No telling how far those ruts go, but I don’t see any signs of habitation,” Quentin said.

“What do we do now?”

“We turn around and go back in the other direction until we find another address.”

“This is interesting,” Nate said.

“Yes, it is, for a little while. Then it gets old.”

“Don’t play the jaded P.I., Q. I know how much you enjoy your work.”

Quentin turned the car around and retraced their steps until they’d found another mailbox and a cross street.

“That will give me enough to go on for a search,” he said. “Shall we go home now?”

“Ready when you are.”

Quentin headed for home, where he went straight from the garage, through the house, and to his office with Nate following.

“Can I help?” Nate said.

“Sure. Go to the Duval County Property Appraiser’s website, and search for one of those addresses while I search for the other.”

“Good thing you finally put a second desk and computer in here when I started helping you, isn’t it?” Nate said.