The photo was the best clue I had. The only problem was, I didn’t have any idea what it meant. Joshua had been missing at least three weeks. These people must have had something to do with it, but how would I find them?

The tall handsome one looked like some sort of guru, all the others surrounding him like he was the second coming of Christ. I placed the photo back where it was, in between pages 206 and 207 of the magazine. If someone else had his place staked out, I didn’t want them to know I’d been here.

I slowly, methodically examined the rest of the apartment waiting for some other connection to flicker through my mind. That’s when it hit me, I hadn’t checked the back of the photo.

I moved back to the bookshelf, opened the magazine and turned the photograph over. Scrawled in Joshua’s chicken-scratch writing was the message: If you’re reading this, brother. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Find me, frend.