Though irritating as fuck, this man has a grudge against the institute too. Does everyone?
“What?” Hailey sounds ready to explode. He ignores her. I flick him a hard, immolating stare. He ignores me too.
The man behind me shifts. “Yes, sir.”
“Looking forward to seeing you, Friday,” Zedder adds in the most suggestive tone. This man is a blatant predator.
She sniffs then takes my hand in a grip that suggests she’d love to knife Zedder. I tend to agree.Use that pretty body? Fuck.
“Let’s go.” She tugs my hand.
How many people do I have to kill in this town?
And yet.
Thoughts swirl in, suggestively.
That table with the anchor points was at the house. We could have a lot of fun.
I move my hand to cover hers, then weave my fingers between hers, trapping them. Why not? As we retrace our route through the warehouse, with Oscar once again leading us, I think it over some more then offer my conclusions.
“He’s right. How many bodies could the institute ship in without being caught? Very few. It can’t be a simple process. Refrigerated storage, documents if they come from overseas. Secret redistribution of parts that no one will miss, because…they have no close family? If this hacker is good, we could get in there, get pictures, get out, send them to every news outlet. That’s how you expose what the institute is doing. You want to get past their security, we need to be at this party.” Hailey shoots me a dirty look. “It should be fun. I’ll keep you safe. You know this.”
Esau is silent. Perhaps he’s still remembering that Niamh. What was she to him? A lover? A fiancée?
“Esau? Was Zedder involved in Niamh’s disappearance?”
He stops. “No.”
Oscar is a few steps ahead and waits for us, somewhat impatiently.
“Do you trust him?”
He glances at Oscar. “I do. Enough to believe this otherhacker is better than Rasmus. Zedder brings in goods”—he makes air quotes—“not corpses.”
Meaning cars and other stolen stuff.
The door to the outside bangs open, to reveal the dimly lit figure of a man standing, legs apart, arms by his side. He’s dramatically posed like a gunslinger extracted from an old Western. Though his sheriff’s uniform is modern, a gun is holstered at his hip. He strides in, alone, but with another officer visible though the opening. His sandy-brown hair is impeccably trimmed, crew-cut short, and neat. He’s middle-aged but muscled, and a grin slices across his mouth.
“Oscar, I’ve come to see your boss,” he drawls, gaze crawling over us, from Hailey to Esau to me. “But look who I found as well.”
“Sheriff Baxter, Zedder is in the office.” Oscar points the way and doesn’t seem alarmed, or keen to escort the sheriff. So, this is routine.
“Indeed, indeed. I’m more interested in this trio. Good to see you again, Miss Hailey. Esau Wrath, you’re keeping fine company. But this fellow, here. Your name, sir? For the record. I like to know who visits my town.” He hooks one thumb in his belt.
“Kail Stone, sir.” I doubt he can look me up on any cop database. If he finds me, I will be, apparently, quite dead.
“Got it. I’ll put that in the report.” He gives me mock salute, touching his forehead, then moves on into the warehouse.
“Stone?” There’s a surprised look on Hailey’s face; her eyes are wide.
This is when I realize that name will be known to her, and that I have never shared my surname with her, until now.Fuck.
Why did I say that?My brain is truly sucking. My laterealization ties in with another conclusion that hits like a brick in the face.
Why did I believe it wise to give the handler’s phone to Rasmus? He might find proof I am someone presumed dead, or from another timeline. I have no idea what is in there, and how many days has it taken me to decide this? From now on, I need to assume I’m not as clever as I want to be. But it’s possibly too late to get myself out of this—whatever it is I’ve gotten myself into.
No one else seems shocked by my surname, so my family might not have lived here for a while, if only Hailey remembers my full name. To her that is the name of her dead friend.
