“Lynx drove past the house,” Fox continues.
I frown as I drive up the mountain, higher and higher. That’s not really a crime and not very unusual, either. If my uncle was in this neck of the woods, whywouldn’the stop by to see if I was home?
But why hasn’t he answered my calls? Why hasn’t he checked in on Lele? It could be he doesn’t know, but it could be hedoes.Either way, service on Riddle Lane is bad without WiFi. Maybe he called and it didn’t go through. I open my mouth to snap all of that out to Fox, but he keeps talking before I can start.
“A dozen times. And the last time, when he was leaving, there was something wrong with his windshield.”
My mind kicks into autopilot and I flick on my turn signal and pull beside a mailbox into the next driveway I see. As expected, it treks up and up into grooves of mud and I’m not doing all that just to potentially get shot on someone else’s property. I put my Q50 into reverse and look behind me as I waitfor Fox to keep going. Our cameras catch everything. They’re the same type the government uses to spy on diplomats. Fox gave me that intel and he set the cameras up with a crew.
“Someone shot at it.”
My spine goes rigid and I close my eyes tight a second before I pop them open, reverse onto the highway, then kick the car in drive, careening down the mountain like a madwoman.
“How long between seeing him for the second to last time, windshield intact, and seeing it shot?”
Fox knew I’d ask that question and he’s ready for an answer. “Five minutes.”
“Someone fired a gun at him on our road.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We don’t have cameras on the road, on account of the fact it’s not technically yours and it’s illegal and highly expensive.”
“Deer cams aren’t expensive.”
“That’s not the kind of camera you want, Lydia, and we both know that.”
I roll up to the same stoplight I just left in silence, only to see Storm pass by across the intersection, going straight from the parking lot of Deer’s. I don’t know if he got coffee or if he knew someone was following him.
I bet he has no fucking idea it’s me though.
Does he even remember the funeral?
Does he hold onto it like I do? Did his parents warn him about me?
When his taillights are barely visible, I throw on my signal and as soon as the light turns green, I gun it, turning after him.
“Where are you right now?” Fox asks when I don’t speak but I’m sure he can hear my engine rev. But I don’t need to tell him where I am at all times, so I haven’t.
“Find out who shot at him.”
“That’s easy. All I need to do is call him and ask.”
I see Leary’s lights up ahead.
This stretch of road leads nowhere, as far as I know. Maybe a scenic lookout, which I suppose could be useful if I was dumping a body, or if Storm was. Despite the weapons on me, I feel a cold thrill of fear creep into my stomach.
I don’t think he’s dangerous, despite who his parents are. He’s a street dealer, isn’t he? That’s what Fox told me; he heard everything he needed to know from a few people around his circle. In itself, finding information so easily could be suspicious. But Fox is paid to protect me, and that means he’s paid to know things.
Then again, sometimes dealers are the most desperate. And what if Fox was fed bullshit?
This could be dangerous, following Storm alone.
And I can’t die.
Lele will need me.
