Simon Says Die

suffered while working on my project, including the repairs to that man’s truck, but I don’t want you to stop or delay the schedule.”
    â€œWhy not?” Pierce demanded.
    â€œBecause I’m not going to let some . . . teenage pranks change my plans.”
    He looked incredulous. “Teenage pranks?”
    â€œAm I missing something?” Braedon asked.
    â€œNo,” Pierce and Madison said at the same time.
    Braedon exchanged a surprised look with Matt.
    Matt pushed his chair back and stood. He stepped in front of Pierce. “I’m not sure what’s going on between you two. But I do know that Mrs. McKinley paid us to do a job.” He directed his next remark to Madison. “We’ll have a team at your house next week, as planned, to dig the footers.” With that, he walked across the patio and around the side of the house toward the street.
    The corner of Pierce’s lip twitched.
    Braedon grinned and reached across the table to shove him.
    He shoved him back, and they both laughed. The tension that had existed between them seemed to evaporate.
    Madison frowned, not at all sure why they seemed so amused. “What’s so funny?”
    â€œMy little brother has grown a backbone,” Pierce said. “Braedon, I’d like you and Matt to take over the work at Madison’s house. Do you have the time?”
    â€œWe’ll juggle things around. We’ll make it work.”
    â€œTell your men to stay on their toes, and let me know right away if anything goes wrong, no matter how ordinary.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    Pierce tugged Madison’s hand until she rose to stand beside him. As they turned to go, Braedon put a hand on Pierce’s shoulder.
    â€œYou’re obviously worried there’s more to this than some neighborhood kids having fun. If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I’m fine with that. But just because I’m not some hotshot FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t help. You get in a tight spot, call me. I’ll be there.”
    M ADISON REREAD THE card Mrs. Whitmire had given Pierce. She shook her head and looked back at the padlocked door to the storage unit. “This can’t be right. Did Hamilton confirm this was Mr. Newsome’s business address?”
    Pierce leaned back against the hood of his car. “He hasn’t sent anyone to see Newsome yet, so he wouldn’t know. Mrs. Whitmire did say Newsome was just starting out. It’s not uncommon for people to use a storage unit or even a post office box as their company’s address. He probably keeps his mowers and tools here.”
    Madison shoved the useless card back into her purse. “Do you think the people in the storage company office can give us his home address?”
    â€œNot if they understand privacy laws, they won’t.”
    â€œCan we at least try?”
    He shook his head. “Going to a place of business is one thing. Taking you with me to Newsome’s house isn’t going to happen, not unless Hamilton’s men did their wellness check and can assure me there’s no danger.”
    Patience was never one of her virtues, and waiting like this was torture. She ran her fingers across the shiny hood of his car. “Maybe his men already checked on him and forgot to tell you.”
    He let out a long, slow sigh and pulled out his phone. A few minutes later, he shoved it back into his pocket. “All right, you win. Hamilton said his men spoke to Newsome about an hour ago. He gave me Newsome’s address. It’s not far from here. Let’s go.”
    N EWSOME’S HOUSE WAS a modest one-story a few miles from the historic district, a block off Skidaway Road, partially hidden beneath towering oak trees with Spanish moss dripping down.
    â€œFor a yardman, his yard sure is overgrown,” Madison said, picking her way through the knee-high weeds crowding onto the walkway.
    Pierce’s gaze scanned the yard, the front porch, as if he were taking everything in.
    A rolled newspaper was lying on the porch steps. Madison picked it up to take a look. “Today’s paper. That’s a good sign, right?”
    â€œPossibly. You should have stayed in the car like I told you.” He pulled her to a stop when she reached the top porch stair.
    â€œThere’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Hamilton said his men spoke to Newsome.”
    â€œHumor me.