“Bus 442 to Glenrock is now boarding,” the announcer blared on the overhead speaker.
Krish looked up. “That’s us.”
“And where’s Glenrock, exactly?”
“In Wyoming.”
“Never been.”
“You’re not missing much.” He stooped and picked up his duffel. The gun inside it made it heavier.
“That one of the places you traveled to on your cross-country travels?”
“No. I’ve only been there once before. Come on, let’s go.”
She hurried to catch up, so he slowed down his steps so she could walk normally. He hoisted his duffel higher as they neared the bus. They could call this right now. His brother might have told him not to contact the Bureau, that they couldn’t be trusted, but surely Krish could find someone who could help Sejal? He could leave her right here, maybe refund her ticket to go someplace else. He could find some other way to get to the head of Cobra.
“You’ve only been there once, but you have a place to go there? Is it FBI? Yours?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Sejal looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but the bus driver came out, and Krish set his shoulders. There was no other way. It was too late. He was in over his head, and she was there with him. At least until he figured out something else.
Because one thing was unchanged since this morning: Sejal remained his only lead, and his brother was still missing. And no one would help him but Krish.
Chapter Nine
Sejal stood on a perfectly white sand beach, with a view of blue water as far as the eye could see. The sun was setting in the west, cotton candy pink and yellow stretching over the sky. There were no crowds, which made it truly perfect. Other people ruined beaches.
She walked into the water. It was warm, kissed by the sun. She kept going, one foot in front of the other, until the water was up to her shoulders.
The water shifted from warm to hot in the blink of an eye. She tried to stop herself from moving forward, but it was like someone else had control of her body. The liquid crept higher and higher, covering her mouth, and then her nose, and finally her eyes. She held her breath as she was swallowed by the ocean, but it didn’t matter, because there was no leaving—
“Sejal.”
She jerked awake, instinctively moving away from the hand on her shoulder. “What?”
“Wake up. We’re almost here.”
She straightened. It was dark out. The cab of the truck they were in smelled like coffee. The clock on the dashboard told herthat it was eleven p.m., which meant she’d been sleeping for almost an hour. When they got off at their bus stop in Glenrock, Krish had said that they needed to drive from there to the house, that it was outside the town.
They’d been on the bus for hours, and she knew nothing more about where they were going than when they’d started, except that their destination would be vacant and furnished and would give them some time to regroup. Further questions had been met with terse, one-word responses or silence.
“Terrible what happened to you two. You must be tuckered out,” the truck driver said. His name was Deep, and he was a Punjabi man in his sixties.
She sucked in her teeth. They’d hitched a ride from the gas station next to the bus stop where they disembarked. The truck driver they’d approached had initially been wary, but the older man had taken pity on the poor young South Asian couple when Krish had explained that their wallets were stolen at the bus station and they were close to his parents’ house.
Sejal hadn’t hitchhiked since her frontal lobe developed and she’d realized it was a great way to get murdered. She had tried to stay awake like Krish, staring straight ahead, but without her precious phone or any entertainment—plus the exhaustion of the last couple of days—the movement of the truck must have lulled her to sleep.
“You have a little something on your—” Krish gestured to his mouth.
A deep sleep, it seemed. She discreetly wiped at the drool on her chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“No problem.”
“Your husband and I had a good chat about some of our favorite foodie destinations.” The truck driver moved his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
“You’re a foodie?” Sejal asked Krish, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be his wife.
