“Lindscott, yeah.” Jayne set his phone on his lap and looked ahead. If anything, traffic had gotten worse. Trefore was busy, but he’d never seen traffic backed up this badly before. “Do you know what’s happening? I’ve never seen it so busy.”
“I don’t know.” Everett flicked on the turn signal. The rhythmic clicks marked the passing seconds like a metronome. “When I left the condo this morning, there was an accident, but I can’t imagine that it’s backed up traffic all over the city like this. There must be an event going on.”
“I guess.”
“I’ll look it up,” Shep volunteered.
“Maybe there’s a parade,” Bo speculated.
“We would’ve heard if there was a parade.” Shep’s phone jingled as it booted up. “Once I’ve got the OS logged, I’ll be able to see what’s what. Just gimme a second and I’ll let you know, okay? It’s probably just some accident somewhere.”
Bo made a sound of irritation in the back of his throat, then clarified what he’d meant as if it were obvious. “Asurpriseparade.”
“Mmhm.” Shep sounded distracted. “Well, I mean, thatcouldbe a thing, but…”
“But?” Jayne prompted. He picked up his phone to see if Knot had replied, but stopped short.
In little more than a fraction of a second, the atmosphere in the car had changed. A chill shot down Jayne’s spine.
Shep hadn’t replied to him.
Shepalwayshad something to say.
“But what?” Jayne prompted a second time. “Shep?”
Nothing.
Jayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure Shep was still there. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that the Jag had a passenger eject option, and that Everett had launched Shep into orbit, but no ejection had occurred. Shep remained wedged on the floor in front of the car seats holding, decidedly not airborne.
The phone in his hand trembled.
“Shep?”
“Oh, shit,” Shep whispered. He lifted his eyes from the screen of the phone, his expression haunted. Skin drained of color, pupils dilated, he begged Jayne silently for help, but Jayne didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what was wrong.
“Shep,” Jayne repeated, firmly this time. “What’s going on?”
“The apartment.” Shep’s voice broke. “Jayne, it’s gone.”
12
Everett
“Gone?” Jayne asked. A note of uncertainty quivered in his voice. Disquieted by it, Everett glanced in his direction. During the course of the last several seconds, Jayne had readjusted his position so that his legs were tucked beneath him and his torso was twisted at the hips. His shoulder dug into his seat, allowing him to look back at the kids. While Everett wasn’t able to keep his eyes off the road for long, what little he saw of Jayne’s expression concerned him—his lips were tight and his brows were burdened with worry. The stiff way he held himself reminded Everett of how Jayne had looked the night before, when his asshole of a psychotic ex had found them in the alley.
It made Everett itch to act—to protect—but all he could do was drive.
When Shep didn’t reply, Jayne demanded, “What do you mean by ‘gone’?”
“There’s got to be a mistake.” Traffic inched forward, and Everett followed. “Apartments don’t disappear.”
“Yes they do!” Shep hissed. He shoved his phone at Jayne as best he could from his awkward position on the floor. “It’sgone.All my surveillance feeds have gone dark. Every. Last. One.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jayne argued.
Everett furrowed his brow and glanced at Shep in the rearview mirror. “Surveillance feeds?”
“The power could have gone out,” Jayne reasoned. It sounded like he was doing his best not to sound frantic. “It does that from time to time.”
