by Emily Bishop
“Ah, you got a bodyguard eh? Smart girl,” Preston says, sitting back in his chair. “So, what do you want? Is he a writer, too? You both want jobs now?”
“What we want is information,” Isaac says, and his voice is icy. “We need to reach out to an old contact—an engineer by the name of Wallace.”
Preston lifts an eyebrow. “You’re going hunting for that kook? You seriously think he’s going to help you?”
Before I can answer, he holds up his hands.
“Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Scarlett. I’m sure it’s exciting to track down your own attacker but I will go on the record saying I do not support this idea at all. Maybe you should just leave the country. Get a fresh start. I hear France is nice this time of year.”
Isaac presses forward but I place a hand on his forearm, stopping him. I can tell he doesn’t like it but he doesn’t move forward again.
“Come on, Preston. You know if this happened to you that you’d be on the trail faster than a dog in a fox hunt. I need to do this. I won’t let any of it get back to you but I need that information. Besides, if I crack this, it will be the story of the century.”
He stares at me, and I stare back at him without blinking. After a heavy pause, he leans back, opening a side drawer in his desk. He pulls out a draft of a story, sliding it across the desk.
“You wrote his contact information on this and asked me to lock it away. I believe it was by the man’s request. Like I said, paranoid kook.”
I grab the document, staring at my own handwriting with an address on it and nothing else. He did want to cover his tracks but I’m thrilled to have a lead. “Thank you, Preston. Thank you.”
He waves me off. “Try not to die. I don’t want any of this tied to me.”
“I assure you, she won’t,” Isaac chimes in as we turn and leave the office.
“Close the door behind you!”
I do as asked, Isaac and I walking quickly back through the halls side by side.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Is this guy stable?” Isaac asks.
I look up at him, and I can tell he’s not worrying about himself. He’s worried about me. My stomach flutters at the thought, even as it twists over what we’re about to do.
“Do we have a choice? I can’t think of any other leads to take here.”
He ponders that, opening the door for me to walk through as we exit the building. He’s being so strong and capable, and all I can think about is how bad I feel for getting him involved in this. Poor man had to search his apartment for bugs. He shouldn’t be involved in this at all.
But I’m glad he is, in spite of myself.
We slide back into his truck and he looks at the address, typing it into a navigation system. Once it’s entered, he turns and looks at me.
“Let’s go find us a spy.”
13
Isaac
It doesn’t take long for me to realize a few things. Wallace lives two hours away from the city. There is no guarantee that we’d be back in a timely manner to take care of Buster. Also, we don’t have any bugs on us to show him what they’ve been using. Isn’t that the whole point of the visit?
I bring these facts up to Scarlett, and she agrees that we should head home first to get the dog and the bugs before we head out. The sun has already set, the streetlights blinking on in the deep indigo of dusk. I turn off the navigator for the moment, the glowing screen built into the dashboard of my car. Instead of music, I let silence reign, the two of us lost in our own thoughts as I pull the truck up in front of our apartment building.
“Let me grab Buster and let him out, then we can find some bugs to show him from your apartment together.”
I emphasize that last word, hoping that Scarlett doesn’t do anything foolish like go into her heavily watched apartment without me. She nods, still silent, and I look over at her. Her expression is pensive and tense, and I fight the urge to wrap my arm around her, to absorb her into me so I can keep her safe and bring a smile back to her worried face.
Before I can open her door for her, she does so herself, stepping down onto the street before joining me at the sidewalk. I open our front door for her and she walks through, her scent brushing against my nostrils. She smells like honey and cinnamon. I breathe her in without shame as I follow behind her.
“Be right back,” I tell her, and she stands in the hallway alone, her eyes hard as they stare out into the inside of her own mind. I don’t need to ask what she’s thinking about. Tonight, we are of one mind. We’re going to get some answers, whether Juice wants to give them out or not.
Assuming we can find him.
I bolt up the stairs.
Buster’s sniffing at the door, already, and I open it and let him out, closing it right behind him. He trots down the staircase, nuzzling Scarlett’s hand when he reaches the bottom level. She gives him a gentle pet before I open the door to let him out front, knowing he won’t go far.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say, and she holds up a key. I take it and shove it into the lock, pressing the door open as quietly as I can. The apartment is dark in the black of night but the streetlight pouring through the front window helps me see. I don’t want to give them any reason to find us, so I hold my finger to my lips, indicating to Scarlett what needs to happen, and she nods again, sliding her hand into mine as she follows behind me.
My hand squeezes hers, molding against it as I lead the way, keeping my eye in the top corners of the ceilings. That seemed to be a trend up in my apartment, and I am not disappointed. Even from this angle I’m able to see the subtle glint of the bug’s metallic surface. I release Scarlett’s hand to pull a chair from beneath her kitchen table, setting it down one leg at a time to avoid any noise before I step on it and pull the bug from its hiding spot. When I step down, I look at Scarlett. She holds up one more bug she must have pulled from somewhere else and I nod, the two of us stepping out as I close the door, locking it once again and handing Scarlett her key.
We step outside then, Buster sitting patiently at the door. I slap my leg gently in a gesture for him to follow, which he does. I remind myself to give him a handful of dog treats when this is all over. I open the door and let him jump into the narrow backseat, pulling a thick jacket from the back and wrapping the bug inside. I look at Scarlett to see if she wants to add hers but I watch her tuck her own bug deep into her purse.
It’s still not enough to trust that they won’t be able to pick up our sound. I set the navigator to silent before turning it back on again, following the directions glowing up at me as I pull the truck out onto the streets, heading outside the city. The air in the car is tense. Buster paces around the backseat before settling in for the ride. I haven’t fed him yet tonight, and a pang of guilt shoots through me. Once we get to Wallace’s place, I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.
The only sound is that of the road beneath my truck and the wind rushing past the windows as the highway darkens. I toss a glance in Scarlett’s direction every so often, and her skin looks translucent in the artificial light of the navigator. She stares out the window, alert and awake.
What is she thinking? I don’t ask.
We exit off the highway and the navigator tells me that we are less than a mile away from our destination. I turn off another road, surrounded by trees. I’ve got another half mile to go when the truck jerks to the side of its own volition.
“What the fuck?” I say, turning the wheel to straighten it.
Scarlett’s eyes are wide when she looks over at me but I turn my focus back to the truck, which jerks again, this time in the other direction.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Nothing! The truck is moving on its own!”
She grips the door. “Last I checked, self-driving cars haven’t been approved yet. Can you focus, please?”
“I am focusing… fuck!”
The truck swivels, going left and right as though taunting me before it
makes a sharp turn to the left, careening into a ditch. I’m slamming my foot against the brake to no avail. The car is doing whatever the fuck it wants. We slam head first into a thicket of trees, not hard enough to release the airbags, thank God.
I turn to Scarlett, not caring that our conversation will be overheard. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. What the hell, Isaac?”
“Are you serious right now? The car just started driving like it had a mind of its own!”
“That’s not how cars work!”
I breathe out through my nostrils, turning the key in the ignition. If I can get it to start, I can maybe turn on my four-wheel drive and back up right out of this ditch. That’s one of the reasons you get a truck – it can get you in and out of places others can’t. The engine turns over, sputtering out.
I let out a frustrated growl as I open the door and step outside. This isn’t right. We didn’t hit hard enough to release the airbags, and that means we didn’t hit hard enough to do real damage.
Scarlett’s door opens and shuts. She storms up beside me. “Can you explain to me why you waited until now to throw the car off the side of the road?”
“You seriously think this is my fault? I told you what happened.”
“Look, I get that guys don’t like to be at fault when it comes to driving their own cars but man up and tell me the truth!”
I glare down at her. I want to grip her arms and make her see sense but instead I do my usual towering. She isn’t intimidated in the least, which is both irritating and sexy as hell all at once.
When I reply to her, my tone is low. “Of all the people in your life at the moment, you think I am the one that’s lying to you?”
That takes her aback, and she glares up at me before climbing the small gorge we’ve fallen into to look down the road.
She turns and calls back down. “We’re not far. Let’s get going, and we can figure out the truck situation later.”
I stare up at her. Is she serious right now? “You want to leave my truck in the middle of nowhere after it pulled a stunt like that? Are you crazy?”
“Let’s say I believe the fact that the truck just decided to lose control on its own in the middle of the night. We’re never going to get a tow at this hour, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to steal it!”
“My truck has never, ever done something like this. This isn’t a coincidence, Scarlett. There is nothing wrong with this vehicle!”
“What are you saying, that someone hacked your car? That’s not even a thing!”
“I’m not leaving this vehicle until I know exactly why this happened.”
“Are you–” Scarlett’s voice echoes through the woods as our argument escalates. She’s unable to finish because Buster starts going fucking nuts in the backseat of the truck, barking through the glass and scratching feverishly at the door.
I jump up to stand by Scarlett, and our eyes scan the horizon. There, at the end of the darkened road, we can see several shapes moving toward us… humanlike shapes. Far too many to take on by ourselves. It proves to me one major point: Somehow those assholes managed to derail my car and shut it down.
Planting bugs, shutting down cars… Who the hell are these people?
I run down to the truck and pull open the door, releasing Buster. I slap my thigh, so he knows not to chase the danger but to stay by my side. “It said the place was this way. Let’s go!”
Scarlett and I bolt away from the shadows, sprinting down the unevenly paved road. They’re behind us, following.
“Through the woods!” I call out, and Scarlett and Buster both follow my lead, turning into the trees as we do our best to sprint while avoiding logs and other forest debris.
The rustling sound of feet echo behind us, the forest amplifying the sound, making it difficult to discern just how far back they are. I pick up the pace, my breath ragged as I work to see in the dark while also keeping tabs on Scarlett. Buster shoots out ahead of us, his nose pointed straight ahead.
We break out into a small, overgrown yard. There is a wooded house ahead that looks more like a cabin—definitely somewhere a paranoid recluse would live. We don’t stop, tearing up the rickety front stairs, and I’m half tempted to pound the door down. I knock as loudly as I can without breaking it. We might need it intact, if they’re still on our trail.
The door stays shut, and I glance back, just waiting to be overtaken by these mysterious assholes. Any minute, this could all be over, and we would never find out who killed us.
14
Scarlett
My heart is pounding in my chest, my temples pulsing as I start to see red in the dark of night. If this is the wrong place, or if he doesn’t open the door, we’re screwed.
Worse than that. We’re dead. Guns pop off in the distance and I hold back a whimper.
The door pulls inward, and Isaac and I nearly tumble inside.
“Please, can you let us in?” I gasp, looking up into the face of the cabin’s owner.
A rush of relief courses through me.
He’s short and stocky, his hair gray and messy, his long gray beard scraggly. Beneath all that hair is a pair of intelligent dark brown eyes that take us in before looking out toward the woods. He steps aside and waves a wrinkled hand inward, guiding us in.
“Come on then, before they hear you.”
Isaac and I pile inside, Buster panting beside us, as the door closes. Juice slams a slab of heavy wood across it, like some medieval castle entrance. I glance at Isaac. His chest is rising and falling abruptly, his eyes wild as he takes in the small interior of the cabin before landing on the disheveled gentleman who just happens to be our savior.
“Just out for an evening stroll, I take it?” Wallace is cool as a cucumber, staring at us with a glint of amusement in his eyes, and I wonder whether he isn’t a little bit crazy. I remember wondering that before, and joy streaks through my chest. It’s so good to remember anything from the missing void, even under these circumstances.
“Professor Wallace. Always a pleasure,” I say between breaths.
Twigs scratch my scalp, stick out of my hair, and my shins burn from running through the woods, trying to keep my knees up so as not to trip and get us killed or tortured or whatever they plan on doing with me.
Wallace grins, staring at us both as he crosses his arms. “It would appear your journalism has gotten you in trouble with the wrong people, mmm?”
Before I can answer, I remember that my purse has a bug in it. Even though it’s buried deep, I don’t want anyone to hear our conversation.
“Is there somewhere I can put this that might be soundproof?” I ask, lifting my purse.
He lifts an eyebrow at me but, being the man that he is, he doesn’t question it. Instead, he nods, holding a hand out for the purse. For reasons I can’t quite explain, I trust him. I hand it out to him and he disappears into another room before returning shortly after, the purse gone.
“I would love to hear what you’ve been into,” he says, gesturing toward a living room to the left. The small area has no windows and is lit with an oil lamp, giving the space a contradictory feeling of cozy and eerie. The light flickers as Isaac and I sit on a small loveseat. We sink into the old sofa, and as I glance down at it, I notice that the aged and fading floral pattern appears to dance in the flickering light. Isaac wraps an arm around me, and I happily sink into him, allowing his warmth to comfort me now that we’ve reached relative safety.
Then again, come to think of it…
“Are we safe here?” I ask.
Wallace sits in a rocking chair across from us, creaking forward and back as he settles in. “Of course, you are. Believe it or not, you are not the first person to enter my home in this way.”
“I can believe it,” I mumble, thinking about our shadowy pursuers. My thoughts drift back to the truck, and the bug that Isaac left in the backseat.
“Isaac! We have to go back to the truck.”
He doesn’t m
ove. In fact, his arm tightens around me, giving me the feeling that standing up will not be a choice I’m offered. Something about that annoys me. Since when is Isaac in control of what I can and can’t do? “No,” he says.
I glare up at him. “We left a bug in there that could have sensitive information on it. We have to get it! We have to make sure that it’s tracked!”
I don’t know why I want to fight him. I just do. He’s been trying to control our situation to the point where I’m losing my own grip on it, and that’s not going to fly. This is my investigation. I’m not going to be held back by some man thinking he owns the right to protect me. I can take care of myself.
“Scarlett, it’s late. We just got chased through the woods by a large group of people. The last thing we should be doing is going back through the dark to get something we can just as easily acquire in the morning.”
“Did you say bug?” Wallace chimes in.
I turn my attention back to him, shoving down my annoyance. I nod. “That’s why we’re here. A week ago someone chased me down and tried to have me burned alive. I survived but I don’t remember the incident or the events that led up to it. Isaac and I are trying to solve that mystery, and when we found our apartments bugged, you were the first person I remembered that might be able to help. Would you mind taking a look?”
He nodded. “I’m guessing one of them is tucked away in that purse of yours? Do you mind if I go get it?”
“By all means,” I say, watching as he leaves the room, Isaac and I sitting in loaded silence. I’m about to suggest going back to the truck again when Wallace returns with a laptop in his hand and the bug in another.
“I was able to disable the recording device, so we can speak freely.”
He sits back in his rocking chair, holding up the bug to take a closer look at it in the lamplight. “I’ve seen bugs like this before, usually found on the black market. This is some top-level stuff you have here, state of the art.”