Elijah POV
Three days left.
I had to take a few deep breaths. We’d only spent the early morning talking to them, so when we left the barber shop, we stopped by a sandwich place for lunch. In a corner table, we talked in hushed tones about what we’d learned.
“New Orleans is like an hour and a half away,” Jerome said. “We had one more lead to look into here, though. So what do you think: check this other guy out, dinner, hit the road?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, poking at my side salad with a frown. “Who is this guy, anyway?”
“Edwin’s last known landlord,” Jerome opened our packet of information and tossed it towards me. “This was his last known address – I checked it out, and it’s an apartment owned by the same guy. I got in touch with him – told him we were investigating him, an
