Page 66 of The Psychopaths

Why has Arson disappeared?

I’m tired of waiting for an answer. If he won’t leave the warehouse, then I’ll go to him. And hopefully I won’t be walking into a trap. Mind made up, I slide my phone into my pocket and shove up off the bench.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the parking lot, and as I walk to my car, I do a quick check of my bag.Pepper spray, inhaler, emergency heart meds.I haven’t needed them thus far, but I don’t know what I’m walking into.

I’ve memorized the warehouse layout since my last visit. Getting in will be harder now that Arson knows I can, but I have to try. If worst comes to worst, I’ll walk up to the door and knock like a normal person. Ahead, my car sits at the far end of the student lot, away from cameras and casual observation. I catalogthe trip in my mind. Fifteen minutes to the warehouse district. Another ten to get inside.

Easy peasy.

It might be a stupid decision on my part, but an entire week of silence has made me a little reckless. I’m almost to my car when an SUV pulls into the parking lot.

Black. Expensive.The windows are tinted, making it impossible to see who’s inside. It glides up beside me with predatory grace, moving slowly enough to make its intention clear. I’m not stupid. I’m not getting in that car, not even if there’s a box full of free books.

Keep walking. Don’t react.

There’s a campus security station just around the?—

Shit.The rear door opens.

“Miss Hayes.” The man’s voice is corporate smooth and reminds me of a banker discussing interest rates. “Would you join us for a moment?”

Join you? No, thank you.

I stare at the man with disinterest, though there’s an undercurrent of panic I refuse to show.Who is this man?He’s wearing a suit that screams money. A Rolex gleaming at his wrist. One glance and it’s obvious he’s a businessman, which makes him infinitely more dangerous than any common thug.

“No, thank you. I have a class to get to,” I lie, while taking a step back. The SUV stops, and I know this is only going to get worse.

“No, you don’t.” A second man steps out of the passenger side. Equally well-dressed, equally polished. “Your last lecture ended twenty minutes ago.”

Shit.

“Study group. Class. Same thing in my book.” I muster up a smile, but it’s clear neither of them believes me.

“Please, don’t make this more complicated than necessary.”

Dread slices through me. They know my schedule, which means they’ve been keeping tabs on me.

“What do you want?” It takes substantial effort to keep my voice calm with a racing heartbeat. These people aren’t Arson. I can’t tell what their next move will be.

I can’t lock down their motives.

“Just a conversation.” The first man gestures to the open door. “And to provide you transportation to your intended destination.”

I press a hand to my thundering heartbeat.They know about the warehouse? About Arson?

“I…I wasn’t going anywhere specific.”

“Miss Hayes.” The man closest to me smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. “Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence. Get in the vehicle, please.”

It’s not a request. We all know it.

I glance around the parking lot, looking for a way out. It’s empty except for a few students, but they’re too far off in the distance to be of any help. Campus security wouldn’t arrive in time, even if I screamed.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I wouldn’t do it. All we want to do is talk. We don’t intend to harm you.”

Not yet.

The man holds the door open a little wider, perfectly courteous. Perfectly threatening while appearing normal.

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