Cat rolls her eyes. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have to call itsomething.”
I grunt.
“Can’t you tap into that one with the universe shit that you do and coax the answer our way?”
I frown. “One with the universe shit?”
“Yeah,” she drops her voice. “Oh ancient ones, hear my plea, guide my hand so justice may be swift.”
“Where in the world did you get that?”
“From your vision quest story.”
A sharp pain slices through my heart. “Yeah, speaking of that. There’s something…”
I turn to Cat, but she’s not paying attention to me anymore. She’s staring at that fucking pen. I reach for it, but she snatches it out of my hand.
“What is with you and that pen?”
She smiles so wide; it’s nearly blinding. “That pen is the key to finding a fugitive!”
I cross my arms.
“I know where Jeffrey Rose is hiding,” Cat buckles her seatbelt and picks up the phone to call her sister.
A replacement team takes our watch five minutes later while Cat and I hit the road.
Chapter 42
“I’ll need an industrial-sized bottle of brain bleach.”
-Cat
Ryker is quiet on the drive to Shearwater, Georgia. Celia didn’t believe me either when I told her I thought that’s where we’d find Jeffrey Rose, but she was willing to let us head off on this little adventure.
He pulls to a stop in front of a shotgun ranch house with a gravel driveway and an honest-to-goodness white picket fence.
“Stay here,” I order as I get out of the car. “I’ll see if she’s home.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ryker follows me onto the sidewalk.
“Nope, Mr. Broodypants,” I shake my head. “You’ll scare the shit out of her, and we’ll get nothing.”
“What if you need backup?”
“Irma Jacobsen is a 70-something realtor who looks like someone’s grandma,” I snort. “The worst thing she’ll do is bake me cookies.”
Ryker frowns harder, which makes me laugh. I pat his forearm, then turn on my heel for the front door. I tap my newly-returned medallion for luck and knock on the front door.
No response.
I knock again.
Mrs. Jacobsen wasn’t at her real estate office in downtown Shearwater. Her partner said she had an emergency at home and sent us this way.
I knock a third time, and a man’s voice yells: “All right, keep your pants on!”
The door flies open. My jaw hits the floor. “Felix?”
