I sit back in my seat, lost in bitter thoughts as the car drives on, weaving in and out of traffic, past Astley Lake and to the north, through the affluent towns up there.
It takes far too long to reach Carlton Car Company, as far as I’m concerned. This is the first time I’ve given myself time to sink into my thoughts and break the very thin, outermost layer of the mountain of emotion that I’m going to have to process one of these days. Not yet though. I can’t handle it yet.
So it’s with a sigh of relief that I feel the car coming to a halt outside the company.
I get out of the car, followed by Josh, and we head into the place. At the front desk, a woman with long acrylic nails is blowing bubbles with her gum. She mutters a hi, and I recognize her voice from earlier, on the phone. Then she looks at Josh expectantly.
“We want to see Bill,” he says.
She shrugs and calls, “Bill!”
A few minutes later, a man walks out, yawning and stinking of cigarette smoke. “Yeah?” he mutters. “What are you doing here, Josh? I sent you your next assignment.”
“I want to help this lady,” says Josh with a burst of energy that feels very at odds with his earlier apathetic personality. “She’s looking for amurderer.”
He pronounces that last word carefully, punctuating each syllable with a pause to give it weight. I want to kick him in the shins.
Especially when Bill’s face closes down at once. “I don’t work with no murderers.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” I say at once, giving him my brightest smile. “I just wanted to know the name of the person who sent me a car earlier today.”
He narrows his beady eyes. “Why?”
“No reason. Except someone sent me a car and I don’t know who.”
My cheeks burn from the fake smile I keep plastered on my face.
“I don’t work with no murderers,” he insists. “Who’d he murder?”
“I never said anything about murderers,” I say, my grin nearly stretching itself clear off my face. “I’m just curious.”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat.”
With those words, he turns his back to me and stalks straight back into his office.
Well, fuck. So much for my investigation.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It’s all I can do to keep from punching the fucking wall. I’m so fucking frustrated. No, pissed. I’m pissed off at the boss of this company, at Josh, at the stupid woman at the front desk, at Kevin the motherfucking bellboy, at Jen in Bali, at Officer Jones. At all of Astley.
Also, I don’t have a ride.
Josh is nowhere to be found. I head back outside, fuming, slamming the door so hard that the glass almost shatters. I’m so fucking sick of this. My parents are dead and I’m wandering around like some stupid Nancy Drew knockoff, trying to solve a case.
I don’t want to be Nancy Fucking Drew. I want be the one who hunts down the person who did this to my parents, and gut him like a fucking fish.
Overwhelmed by my anger, I pause, my hands crisping around my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“Hey! Wait! Piper!”
I turn around to find fucking Josh walking toward me, wearing a cheerful smile that makes me want to stab him.
“How do you know my name?” I scowl.
“Well, you did reserve a car, didn’t you?” he shrugs. Then, as if he didn’t notice my temper, he adds, “Found it!”
“What?”
