Leo cleared his throat, getting our attention. He looked between us, considering. Holding something back.
“What?” Sloan finally asked.
“He’s at a golf course across town,” he replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “So I’m guessing he’s on a job. One of his landscaping gigs.”
I glanced at Sloan. “And you know this . . . because?”
Leo looked bored with the question. “Because he doesn’t look much like a golfer. But I could be wrong.”
Sloan was not amused. “What did you do, Leo?”
“What?” He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “You can’t send me messages and not expect me to try to track the person who sent them. C’mon now.”
“So you used the forwarding to start tracking his location?”
“His phone’s location,” he said with a shrug. “But yeah. Why not.”
Sloan sighed. “Fine. Share that with us. In the meantime, keep digging around. See if these unprofessional kidnappers messed up anywhere we can trace.” She turned to me. “We’re going to find him.”
I nodded, hope beginning to reemerge.
“Okay, let’s head out.” Sloan nudged Leo to hop up and turned to me. “Don’t forget to wear your disguise to leave the house.” She gave me a little wink. “Not you, Leo.”
SEVENTEEN
“Perfect. He’s headed home now, says he’ll meet us there in a few.” Sloan glanced up from her texts. “Does that agree with what we know?”
I looked down at the little dot slowly cruising across my phone’s map and nodded. “Jackson’s on the move. We should be right behind him. Maybe ahead, actually.”
“Only if we pick up the pace,” she yelled toward the front, her tone joking. “We might make it there before tomorrow.”
The driver of the SUV stayed silent, his face hard as he eyed us in the rearview mirror. Her attempts to rattle him and get him talking had thus far been unsuccessful. He was utterly unreadable. And apparently liked to drive very, very cautiously.
Something moved in the corner of my vision. I turned and discovered a vase propped in the back floorboard. It had somehow escaped our notice upon entry. Long flower shoots waved back and forth with the movement of the vehicle.
“Know anything about that?” I said.
Sloan followed my gaze. “Hmmm,” she mused loudly. “Guess Benton has a crush on us after all.”
The driver’s eyes appeared in the mirror again, steady on Sloan. “They were delivered to your office this morning. Just picked them up.” His voice was very deep and matter-of-fact.
“He speaks,” Sloan exclaimed, meeting his gaze. “And does he know anything else?”
Benton returned his eyes to the road, his participation ended as quickly as it began. Sloan grinned at me, amused, and stretched across the back of the seat to reach the small card tucked into the display. Her face was inscrutable as she examined the message and tucked it into her bag without a word.
Finally she looked up and responded to my impatiently questioning eyebrows. “Christopher.” She shrugged weakly, with a smile to match.
Not exactly a typical reaction to ‘the one.’ Although it was Sloan we were talking about. Who ever knew?
“So,” I ventured, unsure how much to pry. “Were you serious with Lucas this morning? Or just trying to mess with him. I couldn’t quite tell.”
“What, about the date? Are you asking if I’m in love?” Her smile was genuine as she mocked the words. “Definitely not. But Lucas doesn’t need to know that. And I really am open to moving on, so I’ll try giving it a chance.” Her voice lowered to a mutter. “No matter how boring he may be.”
“I knew it,” I exclaimed, laughing. “Lucas is one hundred percent right, and you just don’t want to admit it.”
“I concede nothing to that man.” She tried unsuccessfully to hide her grin.
Maybe she really does want him jealous, then, deep down. I smiled back and tried to swallow down the sinking feeling in my gut. It was none of my business, really.
The driver interrupted my pity party by clearing his throat. He gazed at us in the mirror and seemed to hesitate. His expression was now sheepish.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “But we won’t have enough gas for the rest of the day. Want me to just get some while you make your stop? It won’t take long.”
“Firstly, we aren’t ma’ams,” Sloan replied. She leaned over to peek at the map on my phone, swishing the screen toward our destination. “But I don’t like my getaway vehicle getting away on me. There’s a gas station just before his neighborhood, we can stop there. It’s not a problem.”
***
A few minutes later we pulled up to a pump at 7-11 and Sloan flung her door open without warning. She glanced back at me as she slid her sunglasses from her fake golden hair. “Let’s stretch our legs while we wait, shall we?” Her smile was devious as she slipped the shades on and stepped out.
I had serious doubts about her need to stretch anything at this point in our brief journey. More likely she just wanted to people-watch while in disguise. Her own form of personal amusement.
But I could always use a coffee.
We strolled into the store, in cognito. Okay, maybe anonymity is sort of fun. I headed straight for the coffee station, glancing down aisles as I passed. Only a few stragglers in the quiet store.
I busied myself with inspecting flavored creamers while Sloan casually circled the room. I kept an eye on the beer cooler guys nudging each other as she was discovered. It seemed she drew the eye no matter what the attire.
I, on the other hand, felt even more invisible in my dark wig and faux piercing. It hid my face nicely as I watched, head down. Sloan pretended not to notice the gawkers, but I knew better. She was aware of every move they were making.
Finally one of them decided to take a shot. I knew it before he spoke. He flicked his weaselly eyebrows at his friend and turned toward Sloan.
“Hey there,” he called out.
She glanced up and gave a disinterested nod, ostensibly returning her attention elsewhere.
“What do you think we should get?” The skinny one persisted. “What kind do you like, darlin’?”
Sloan continued to ignore, but finally relented as the men stared her down. “I don’t,” she replied, her voice indifferent.
“See, we can’t seem to make up our minds,” he twanged, ignoring her reaction. “Sure would help to get the opinion of a pretty lady like you. We could even share.”
I rolled my eyes. Sloan somehow managed not to do the same, continuing her cool play. She moved a little closer and faced the harassers. “Sorry, can’t help you,” she said cheerfully.
The man called out again as she turned away. “How ‘bout your friend, then?”
My eyes widened as he turned his gaze my way.
In a flash Sloan was face to face with the loudmouth. She towered over the slight man in her tall heels.
“My friend is not interested, either,” she said. “So I suggest you just finish your sad little mid-morning beer dilemma and get on your way.”
The man clearly didn’t pick up on the fire behind that calm, direct gaze. “Just being friendly, now.” He reached a hand to touch her arm. “No need to get all upset.”
I blinked and almost missed it. Within seconds Sloan had the man whipped around backwards, his offending hand twisted awkwardly behind his back as he leaned forward at an unnatural angle. He yelped with surprise and pain, eyes wide as he looked up at her. All bravado disappeared.
A disturbing faux smile played on Sloan’s face as she gazed first at his shell-shocked friend in warning, then down at the meddler. “Like I said. Time to move along.”
They shared a long look. Then Sloan carefully released him and stood her ground. The man shook out his arm dramatically and turned away, gesturi
ng to his friend. They both shot her an icy look as they stalked away, headed for the exit.
The man paused by the front counter and stared down the attendant. “Not even gonna do anything, man?”
“Ain’t see nothin’ here,” the large, bored man replied. He glanced up from the scratch lottery ticket he was working on. “Well lookee that, a free ticket. My lucky day.” His hard smile dared the man to say anything further.
His response elicited outraged sighs before the men continued on their way, cursing under their breaths. The few remaining patrons went back to their browsing as the drama died down in the store. I fit a lid on my coffee and waited for my heart rate to slow down again. That. Was. Amazing.
Sloan moved to the front to watch the men disappear in their truck. Then sidled up to me and spoke quietly. “All set?”
She appeared as if nothing had even happened. Bet that barely even registers in her day. “Yup.”
“How’s the progress on our guy?”
I flicked on my phone and studied the movement of the red dot. But there didn’t appear to be any. “He’s stopped.” I pinched out to zoom in.
“Already home?”
“No.” I blinked as I stared. “He’s . . . here?”
“Aye, mate,” a voice broke the stillness of the store. “Where’s the rest of the energy drinks?”
Our heads whipped toward the drink coolers. In place of the departed harassers stood Jackson, cold air wafting around him from the open door in his hand. It reminded me of Lucas and the steam from the night before. But undoubtedly without the same effect, despite his objective attractiveness. I tried to shake off the memory.
“What is there,” the attendant drawled back slowly, “is what we got.” He continued his methodical work on the tickets, intently focused.
Some spies we are. We had just let our person of interest get the drop on us. And he didn’t even know it.
Sloan and I exchanged a glance and immediately set to work, separating. She followed slowly as Jackson moved away from the coolers. I circled around to the medicine aisle, casually browsing.
We had no reason to suspect Grant’s roommate of anything, but I figured we might as well use our anonymity to get to know him better. Sloan had taught me that it never hurt to know too much. And despite my determination not to listen, her impromptu lessons had apparently begun to sink in.
Quick glances caught Jackson breezing through the junk food aisle, grabbing two bags of potato chips and a two-liter from the top shelf on his brisk way. Chips, soda, energy drinks? It didn’t really compute with what we knew of this guy so far. Was the kitchen stock we saw just for show?
Suddenly he was headed my way. I focused on inspecting a box of allergy medicine, keeping my head down. Jackson brushed by and came to a stop at the candy rack. He stood, taking in the selection, his arm weighted down by the small basket overflowing with his gluttonous purchases.
He grabbed up a handful of candy bars and threw them into the basket. Then another. I caught a quick sigh as he rushed off, headed for the checkout counter. He had been intent in his mission, paying no mind to the female strangers keeping an eye on him.
I stayed put, my pulse quickening again. Things had just taken a turn. He could be up to something after all.
Snickers.
He had grabbed loads and loads of Snickers.
What were the chances he and his roommate shared the same candy addiction?
***
We watched from down the street, waiting for Jackson to head into his house. Our hasty exit right behind him allowed us to arrive within seconds of him pulling up out front. I wanted one final validation of my suspicions before we entered. Finally he started toward the house, hands empty.
“Yep,” I said. “He left the bag of junk in the car. Now why would he do that?”
“Interesting,” Sloan replied. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking . . . ”
“Can’t help it.” I shrugged and watched Jackson disappear through the door. “You saw that guy’s kitchen. And you’ve seen him.”
“Mmmm. Good point. There’s no way he lives on a diet of that stuff.”
“Especially the staple of his little shopping trip. Snickers, and lots of it.”
“Definitely not the best choice, I’ll agree.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I take it that means something to you?”
I faced Sloan, excitement rising again. “They happen to be Grant’s biggest weakness. Trust me, I know.”
Her face lit up to match mine. “Well, now we really need to pay a visit. Shall I call you, then? I’ve been looking for an excuse to finally try out our new setup.”
I pulled out my phone and grinned, pleased to see Sloan making use of the hearing aids I had fit her with. While she didn’t need them like I did, the devices would allow us to stay connected the whole time, discreetly and without fancy surveillance equipment. Only a streamed phone call was needed. But what exactly would we use them for here?
Connection successfully tested, we removed our wigs and accessories to revert to our normal selves. There was no need to read Jackson in on our disguises. The driver pulled up to the house and we hopped out. A glance through Jackson’s car window as we made our way up the driveway confirmed the bag of junk food still present. A box of Pop Tarts spilled out into the passenger seat.
“Might never have suspected anything of this guy if we hadn’t seen what we did,” I said, continuing on to the porch. “Don’t tell me that’s what you had in mind going in there?”
“Never really know what might come up.” Sloan shrugged. “Always have the antenna ready. It’s all useful experience.”
“Also entertaining. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss your little takedown in there.” I lowered my voice at the front door. “So . . . can you teach me how to do that sometime?”
“Now it’s my lucky day.” Sloan grinned broadly as she reached to ring the doorbell. “Thought you’d never ask.”
EIGHTEEN
“Ladies, ladies,” Jackson said as he ushered us in. “Good to see you. Sorry we can’t meet under better circumstances.” He turned back to lean his head out the doorway, peeking left and right before straightening and slamming the door shut. Both locks were immediately flicked into place and double-checked with a yank. Finally he turned to face us. “So what can I do for you?”
Sloan and I exchanged a glance.
“You feeling okay, Jackson?” Sloan asked carefully. “Has anything happened?”
“Yeah, something’s happened,” he snapped, indignant. “My flatmate’s gone missing and I’m supposed to come up with a couple hundred grand to get him back. And I don’t even like the bugger.”
“Right,” I said. “Sorry.”
Jackson sighed. “I don’t mean to snap at you. Think I’m just hungry.” He began moving quickly toward the kitchen. “Haven’t had time to eat just yet. Mind if I whip up something while we talk?”
“Please, help yourself,” I replied. Not in the mood for your junk food stash, I see. I was curious to see if my original assumptions about him were correct.
“Hope you ladies like smoothies,” he said. “My new kale and carrot recipe is epic.”
Yep, spot on.
Sloan’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Darn. We just had a late breakfast. But thanks.”
I suppressed a giggle at her response, curiosity winning out. “I’d try just a bit.”
“Excellent.” Jackson emerged from the refrigerator with an armful of fresh greens. “Won’t take but a minute.”
We watched him jam vegetable after vegetable into the blender. Just as he fired up the machine, Sloan threw out the first question.
“So have you had any new thoughts,” she yelled over the racket, “on who might be behind that video?”
“Any what?” Jackson hollered back.
This is going to go j
ust great.
But Sloan knew how to make the best of things. She sidled up to Jackson, leaning in close before attempting her question again, right in his ear.
Jackson glanced down at her hand on his shoulder before responding. His lips were barely an inch from her ear as he leaned in to speak.
After a few back-and-forths, leaving me standing awkwardly on my own, Jackson turned his attention back to the blender for a moment. As he stuffed another handful of leaves into the machine, Sloan took the opportunity to tap at her phone, barely glancing at the screen before blackening it again and placing the phone on the counter.
Jackson paid no mind when I clicked to answer my phone a moment later, my hearing aids immediately connected to the call just as Sloan’s were. I too darkened the screen and placed the phone back in my pocket. I would have no need to speak for the next task.
“Mind if I use your restroom while you finish that up?” I asked, itching to get out of the room for multiple reasons.
“Yeah, sure.” He barely noticed my presence between his blender work and Sloan hovering nearby. “Down the hall.”
“Can’t wait to try the smoothie,” I called back as I left the room. Once out of sight, I rushed to the first door available. It actually was the bathroom.
A quick search of the tidy space brought forth nothing new. Not even anything interesting in the medicine cabinet. Although it did confirm that Jackson was legitimately on insulin. The vials there were valid prescriptions in his name. I sighed with relief we didn’t have a drug addict on our hands.
The next room was obviously Jackson’s bedroom. It was not as neat as Grant’s OCD playground, but it could’ve been worse. It looked more like a teenage boy’s room, with mild clutter and all the surfing paraphernalia.
I scanned the contents quickly, afraid to touch anything. A laptop and tablet in the corner caught my eye. But nothing that screamed ‘Into something bad.’
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