Based on the way Gracie was staring back at him, a tiny little smirk on her lips said he was failing miserably. They’d been at Grant’s place for the last half hour. About twenty-eight of those minutes had been spent waiting to hear back from the cell phone provider. Grant hadn’t hesitated before he’d called them during the walk back, but at that point, they had no new information. Lane got the feeling they weren’t going to receive a call, either. From what he’d gathered from eavesdropping on that conversation — something he hadn’t bothered to try to hide — they’d suggested that Grant call the police. For whatever reason, Grant was hesitant to do so. But now, someone was on the phone with Grant, and he wasn’t doing well to keep the conversation private although he had stepped out onto the front porch. “Who do you think that is?” Gracie asked, practically voicing Lane’s direct thoughts. “No idea.” Lane looked toward the door, as though that would improve his hearing.
