Page 8 of Darkwater Lane

“Now’s fine,” I tell her, glad it’s early enough that everyone else in the house is still asleep. “You find anything on Varrus?”

She hesitates a moment, and that’s all the answer I need. My stomach sinks.

Leonard Varrus was the head of the Lost Angels until he went missing under mysterious circumstances several months ago. Unfortunately, those mysterious circumstances involved my family and me. A massive amount of his blood was found sprayed across the living room of our house in Stillhouse Lake. Enoughthat the authorities presumed Varrus was dead—most likely murdered.

Their number-one suspect was Sam. He’d been with Lanny at Reyne U that weekend for a college visit, but his truck was captured on a speed camera on the road leading to Stillhouse Lake. He’d been asleep at the hotel at the time, but since Lanny was staying with a student on campus, no one could verify that.

Authorities had been on the cusp of arresting Sam and pressing charges when my close friend Kez suggested they retest the blood for any kind of preservatives or additives. They’d found an anticoagulant, which indicated the blood had not been fresh. While that didn’t erase all suspicion directed at Sam, it was enough reasonable doubt that the District Attorney didn’t feel comfortable moving forward.

Still, no one has heard from or seen Leo Varrus since. Except for Sam. Varrus has enjoyed calling Sam every now and again to taunt him.

So, I’d turned to Taylor, hoping she could use her skills to track Leo down. Not only was Taylor a technical whiz, but she also didn’t mind playing a little fast and loose with laws. She’s our best hope of finally finding Leo and exonerating Sam for good.

“I’m sorry, Gwen,” she says. “This guy is invisible, which should be impossible these days. It’s probably best I don’t go into too much detail, but I can’t find anything linking him to any airports or car rental agencies. Not even so much as a pop on a neighborhood Ring camera. He’s not touching any bank accounts, or other cash services—no Venmo, ApplePay, PayPal. Either this guy is one of the better hackers out there and knows how to truly live off-grid, he’s getting a substantial amount of help from someone, or he’s dead.”

“Or he’s just lucky,” I offer.

“In my experience, luck tends to run out.”

I press my fingers against my temples, already feeling aheadache threatening. “Well, then, let’s hope his luck runs out sooner rather than later. So, those calls he’s been making to Sam—you haven’t been able to trace them?”

“Burner phones,” she says.

Another dead end. I’d had high hopes that Taylor could find ussomethingto go off of. Now, we’re back to square one, which is basically nowhere.

“I appreciate your help on this,” I tell her. “Seriously, I know you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, well, I hate that I wasn’t able to get you anything. You know me, I pride myself on finding the shit others can’t. I plan to keep an eye on this guy, though. He’s pissing me off, and now I’m personally invested.”

I laugh. “Welcome to the club. This guy’s been pissing me off for a while now.”

“In my experience, if someone’s still alive, they leave tracks somewhere. He’ll show up eventually. And when he does, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

After we hang up, I spend a few minutes staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out if there’s another angle I can use to track down Varrus. Maybe I need to look more into his associates and friends to see if one of them is helping him stay under the radar.

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the office door. I quickly minimize any screens as Lanny pops her head around the corner to say good-bye. “I’m off to school in a few minutes. Sam’s driving me since you won’t let me borrow your car. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” She shoots me a hopeful smile.

“Sorry, kiddo, I’ve got errands to run. Unless you want to drop by the grocery store on your way home?” I mimic the singsong cadence of her request.

She pulls a face. “No, thank you.”

“No complaining about what’s for dinner then,” I tell her.

“When has that ever stopped me?” She waves and retreats down the hallway to pack her bag for school.

“Good luck on your history test,” I call after her.

“With a brain like mine, I don’t need luck!” she shouts back.

I shake my head, admiring her confidence. It’s always so striking to me that I can be immersed in a world of online threats and hate one moment, and then jerked back into the ordinary life of a parent and their teen the next. It makes me appreciate the spots of normalcy in our lives even more.

Sam slips into my office then, a travel mug of coffee in his hand. He holds it out to me. “I figured you were due for a refill, given how early you were up this morning.”

I take it from him gratefully, the smell of dark roast already easing the tension in my shoulders. I swallow a sip and groan in pleasure.

He gestures at my computer screen. “Work?”

It’s obvious from his expression he knows what I’ve been up to. I shake my head, my cheeks flushing. I’m not ashamed to be protecting my family, but I shouldn’t have kept it from Sam. “Sicko Patrol,” I admit.

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