A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus by Reagan Keeter (best e book reader txt) 📕

Dylan peeked into the crack between the furniture and the wall. “Nothing.” Then she got down on all fours, looked underneath both it and the bed. This time, she didn’t say anything, but it was obvious there was nothing there, either.

“Maybe you’re wrong,” Olin said to Connor.

Dylan seemed like she wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. She pulled the clothes out of the dresser, examined the interior of each drawer closely, then pulled the drawers themselves out and turned them over.

“What are you doing?” Olin said.

“Have you ever seen a movie in your life?”

Once Dylan finished with the dresser, she did the same thing with the drawers in the nightstands. “Bingo!” She put the second of the two nightstand drawers on the ground and leaned in close.

Connor couldn’t tell what she had found until she turned around holding a key with a strip of masking tape stuck to it.

“I believe this is what you gentlemen are looking for.”

Connor took the key from her. He pulled off the strip of masking tape and let it fall to the floor.

Olin crowded in close to get a better look. “What do you think it goes to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Looks like a padlock to me,” Dylan said.

Then Connor remembered something. “Actually, maybe I do know.”

CHAPTER 51

“Austin’s rehabbing a house not far from where I live. There’s a shed at the end of the driveway. Bigger than you’re thinking of, probably. It’s got a pair of double doors on it that are secured by a padlock. That might be what this goes to.”

“You think that’s where he’s been keeping our parents?” Olin said.

Connor hoped not, because he had never heard a peep from that shed. Not even when he had walked right up to it looking for a hammer. If his parents were in there—his or Olin’s—they were probably dead. But Connor didn’t want to tell Olin that, so he said, “I don’t know.”

“How are we going to get there?” Dylan said.

That was also a question Connor could answer. Austin drove a pickup so he could haul stuff to and from the work site. Connor had seen it parked on the street when they’d arrived earlier. “We’ll take his truck,” Connor said, nodding his head in the general direction of the living room.

“What if he wakes up?” Olin said.

“And finds that we took his truck?” Connor held up the key. “I think he’s going to be more upset that we left with this.”

“Fair enough.”

As far as Connor could see, there was only one drawback to his plan. But there was no way Dylan was hotwiring a pickup with a credit card, so this time it really would mean going into Austin’s pocket for his keys.

“You want me to do it?” Dylan said, once the three of them had returned to the living room.

Connor shook his head. “No.” Dylan shouldn’t even be here. The last thing he wanted was for a fourteen-year-old girl to be fishing around in the front pocket of a stranger’s pants, or for Austin to wake up and grab her arm while she was doing it. At least Connor might have enough strength to pull away. “Just be ready in case anything goes wrong.”

He and Olin rolled Austin onto his back.

Austin stopped snoring, mumbled something incomprehensible. Connor jumped to his feet, ready to start kicking if Austin woke up. But then he smacked his lips and started to snore again.

Connor quietly sighed with relief.

“You can do this,” Olin said nervously. He was now standing a good three feet back from the body and didn’t look like he planned on getting any closer.

Connor went about getting the keys in slow, methodical steps, the whole time listening to Austin’s breathing pattern and keeping his eyes open for any movement. He got down on his knees. Paused. Leaned over. Paused. Slid his hand into Austin’s pocket. Paused. There was more than just a set of keys in there—he could tell much by touch—so he wrapped his hand around everything and pulled all of it out.

Connor immediately got back to his feet and stepped away from the body. Checked for movement one last time. To say he felt relieved would have been an overstatement—there was still a lot to be stressed about—but he felt something akin to that. He had made it.

He opened his hand to find crumpled receipts, a Swiss Army knife, and Austin’s keys. He let the receipts fall to the floor, then pocketed the knife, because why not? There were four keys on the keyring. Three house keys, one that looked like it went to his bedroom door, and a car key. One of the house keys had to be for the apartment. The other two were probably for the house he was remodeling.

Connor and his friends headed for the door, Olin stopping only long enough to grab the baseball bat on his way out.

Once they reached the street, Connor pointed at a white RAM pickup. “That’s it.”

All three piled in without hesitation. Dylan took the middle seat.

Connor navigated his way to the interstate. Traffic was slow going in places, still blocked up completely in others, but he made every turn thoughtfully, staying off the busiest roads, and once he was on I-95, he was confident he could get to the house without further issue.

The house was dark, which was no surprise. Austin preferred not to leave any lights on when he wasn’t there. But with the nearest streetlamp out, the lot was even darker than it should have been.

Maybe that was for the best. It was looking more and more likely Austin was the kidnapper, but they still didn’t know that for sure. If the evidence didn’t pan out the way Connor expected it would, he didn’t want to be the person who had first drugged his boss and was then spotted by a neighbor breaking into the house the man was rehabbing.

They made their way