Thread of Innocence (Joe Tyler Mystery #4) by Jeff Shelby Page A

the crap out of me that he spoke like a college professor.
    “I will, John,” I said. “And thank you.”
    “ You're welcome,” he replied. “Good luck.”
    I punched off the phone and laid it on the table next to the napkin, staring at the name and address. Neither rang any bells for me, but I didn't expect them to. I was just glad I now had something to do in Phoenix.
     

NINETEEN
     
     
    I backtracked south of Scottsdale, then east into Mesa, one of the may sprawling suburbs that sprouted during the real estate boom in the Phoenix area. For years, it had been an underpriced market, but when mortgages became easy to come by, the entire region exploded with physical and price growth and the desert suddenly became a cool place to live. When the bubble burst, though, the area, like a lot of others around the country, collapsed. Entire developments went unfinished and abandoned. Retail centers that were promised were never built. Foreclosures skyrocketed. The desert cooled off and left the suburbs with plenty of brand new ghettos.
    The GPS in the rental pulled me off the highway and led me through neighborhood after neighborhood of stucco homes and gravel filled front yards. Some streets seemed like normal suburban areas, while others felt deserted and unkept. Nearly every street had at least one home for sale and many had notices taped to their doors.
    I kept driving.
    I followed the directions from the GPS until I was in the easternmost area of Mesa, nearly to the foothills of the surrounding mountains. It led me into a cul-de-sac and told me I'd arrived at my destination when I reached the end of the cul-de-sac. The house was nothing out of the ordinary. One story, stucco exterior, gravel and cacti in the front yard. Small red pavers cut through the gravel from the sidewalk to the front door. The street seemed to back up to an open area that led to the foothills.
    I pulled to the curb and cut the engine. I stared at the house through the passenger window and wondered if Elizabeth had been brought to the house or if she'd been to Arizona at all. My gut started churning all over again, the same feeling I'd lived with for so long when I'd had no clue where she was.
    I stepped out of the car and no sooner had I closed my door that two college-aged young men emerged from the house. Both wore baggy athletic shorts and sleeveless T-shirts advertising a mixed martial arts company. They seemed close in age. One was a little taller than me, one slightly shorter. They both had their hair cut close to the scalp, but the shorter one had left a trail down the middle, some sort of pseudo mohawk. Neither looked terribly friendly.
    “Help you?” the taller one asked, stopping on the sidewalk.
    “ I'm looking for Janine,” I said.
    “ She's not available,” he said, rolling his shoulders, flexing his biceps.
    “ I'd like to speak with her, please,” I said.
    “ He just told you no,” the shorter one snarled. “Are you deaf?”
    “ No,” I said. “I just repeated what I wanted.”
    His brow furrowed on his tan forehead and he glanced at the taller one. “He's a dick, Landon.”
    “Easy,” Landon said to him. To me, he repeated “She's not available right now.”
    “ When will she be?” I asked.
    He shrugged, flexing the biceps again.
    “You both live here with her?” I asked.
    Landon didn't move, but the shorter one nodded.
    “She your mother?” I asked.
    The shorter one nodded again. This time, though, Landon saw him and frowned at him.
    “Why don't you go back in and tell her Joe Tyler would like to speak to her about Elizabeth Tyler?” I said. “Either one of you will be fine.”
    “ Mister, I don't care who you are,” Landon said, stepping off the curb onto the street. “She's not coming to speak to you.”
    “ I thought she wasn't available.”
    He smiled, exposing crooked teeth. “Call it what you want.”
    “I think I'm gonna go knock,” I said.
    The shorter one stepped into the street next to