Page 62 of Talon

As he, Reaper, and Nitro head out to help the woman and her kids, I’m left with Matrix.

“Don’t stop digging until you find something. You’ve got ten minutes, then we’re leaving.”

“I might need longer,” Matrix says.

“Ten. After that, we’re leaving. We can figure out who he is after I put my fists through his fucking face.”

“We don’t know if he’s our guy.”

“It was his truck. He’s the one.”

I pace back and forth, obsessively checking my watch while Matrix types away on his computer.“Time’s up.”

“Still can’t find shit on him.”

“We’ll beat it out of him, instead. Let’s go.” I heard toward the garage, glancing back once to make sure he’s behind me. He is. If nothing else, we’ll always have each other’s backs. That’s something I can count on.

The roar of our engines cuts through the cool evening air as Matrix and I make our way to Leonard Knight’s house. I can’t shake the nagging feeling in my gut that we’re racing against time to find Jessica’s stalker, and this guy might be our best shot.

“Stay sharp,” Matrix reminds me as we turn onto Knight’s street.“We don’t know what we’re walking into here.”

“Trust me, I’m ready for anything.”

As we pull up to the modest suburban home, there’s no sign of the black truck—or any other vehicles, for that matter. The front door seems too obvious, so we decide to circle around the back instead, threading our way through a maze of neatly trimmed hedges and perfectly manicured lawns.

“Right behind you,” Matrix murmurs as I test the back door, finding it unlocked. With a slow push, we slip inside.

The dimly lit interior reveals a living room straight out of a 1950s sitcom. The burnt orange couch looks like it’s seen better days. A large recliner with doilies draped over the arms sits unused to one side. An old man, probably in his late seventies, is sitting on the couch with a TV dinner balanced on his lap. Confusion and anger control his features as he tries to make sense of our unexpected intrusion.

“Who the hell still watches game shows?” I mutter.

The tinny sound of applause and laughter fills the room. I take in the walker near the couch and the slippers on the man’s feet. With a sinking feeling, I’m starting to wonder if this is even our suspect. The man I fought outside Sienna’s house was taller and heavier. If this is Leonard, he’s too thin and much smaller than Jessica’s stalker.

“Hey!” the man shouts, nearly dropping his meal.“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Is this your house?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“Damn right it is! Now, get the hell out before I call the cops!”

“Easy, Leonard. It is Leonard, right?” Matrix asks, stepping forward.

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?”

“We just need to know if you own a black truck,” I say.

Leonard hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the two of us.“Yeah … I do. But it’s gone missing. I was gonna report it stolen, but”—he chuckles half-heartedly—“forgot to call the cops. I guess I’m not as sharp as I used to be.”

“Missing, huh?” Matrix glances at me.

My mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle. Could Leonard be telling the truth? Or is he just playing dumb? Even if he isn’t the stalker, the person could be someone he knows. Leonard could have let someone else borrow his truck.

I study his face, searching for any signs of deception. The lines etched into the corners of his eyes and the faint creases in his forehead tell a story of a man who’s seen many years pass by. He doesn’t seem like he’d be involved in stalking a young woman, but you never know anymore.

I decide to press further.

“Does anyone else live here with you?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

“Been alone since my wife passed away two years ago,” he replies, an unmistakable sadness in his voice.“Never had any children … Wish we did, though. Might have someone to look after me in my old age. I don’t get around as good as I used to. The old legs ain’t worth much these days.”

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