Page 26 of Chained
“Maybe.”
With another sigh, Edge lay down on his side. He would have healed better in dog form, but he remained a man. And very quietly, hoping Holt wouldn’t hear, he hummed himself to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Terry’s brain cruelly replayed the highlights of his last conversation with Edge.Neutered. Bad dog. Put down.Meanwhile, traffic on the Ten crawled. He did everything he could to go farther faster, including tailgating, lane-switching, and honking. He used the carpool lane too, because he was a goddamn federal agent and if some fucking Highway Patrol asshole wanted to pull him over, let him try. None did, but even the carpool lane was torturously slow. He banged on the dashboard in frustration and finally turned on the radio full blast, but Milli Vanilli did nothing to improve his mood, and he quickly switched it off again.
God, music. Edge hadn’t even had the opportunity to enjoy music until Terry introduced it. Music had been the only thing to sustain Terry when he was lonely or miserable. How had Edge survived?
He reached headquarters at last, screeched into the parking garage, and parked badly, taking up two spaces.Who gives a fuck about that?Then without even glancing at the agent who staffed the reception desk—Terry’s usual stop for a quick chat—he sprinted toward Townsend’s office.
The chief’s secretary, as stoic as ever, sat behind her desk in the outer room of the suite. The apocalypse could happen three feet in front of her, and she’d continue pecking away on her ancient typewriter. She wore gray flannel suits no matter the weather and probably hadn’t changed her hairstyle since the fifties.
“Hi, Mrs. Lutz. I need to see him right now. Please.”
Despite his very best attempt at politeness under the circumstances, she didn’t look up. The typewriter keys rattled like gunfire, punctuated by the ring of the carriage return. Terry balled his hands into fists while fighting the urge to throw the damned machine at the wall. He would have just marched past her into Townsend’s inner sanctum, but he wasn’t at all certain he’d survive the attempt.Nobodysaw Townsend until she let them in.
An endless minute later, she pulled the paper out, squared it precisely atop a stack of other papers, and glared up at him. “You don’t have an appointment.”
“I’ve been on assignment. I have urgent news for him.”
Peering at him skeptically with lips pursed, she adjusted the frame of her glasses and then picked up the phone. Heavy and black, it was as much a relic as her typewriter and would probably make a decent weapon. “Agent Brandt claims he must meet with you immediately.” She listened to the response and hung up. She didn’t look pleased. “Go in.”
“Thank you.”
Townsend was leaning back in his oversized chair, hands laced behind his balding head. Although he wore expensive suits, they were always poorly tailored, and he looked as if his considerable bulk might burst the seams. The scents of cigarette smoke and whiskey were so thick they were nearly visible, and his walls were hung with framed newspaper articles containing his photo and mostly untrue reports of what he did for a living.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” he said jovially. “Not even a phone call?”
“I couldn’t leave the estate without blowing the assignment.”
“I see. But you’re here now. Does that mean you’ve obtained the evidence I sent you for?”
“Not exactly. But—”
“We need that evidence, my boy.”
Terry was beyond sick of being calledboy, but that wasn’t his battle right now. “I know. I’m close. But, sir, he hasdogshifters and he murdered—”
“Wait.” Townsend got to his feet. He moved faster and more gracefully than would be expected of a man his size. “You’re going to tell me a story, I can tell. I don’t mind stories, but I don’t much enjoy them on an empty stomach, and I haven’t had lunch. Come with me.” He grabbed his hat from the coatrack and slapped it on his head. It was possibly the last in-service Homburg in the state of California, and he rarely left the office without it.
“Sir, this is urgent.”
“Nothing is such an emergency that it can’t wait for lunch.” And with that pronouncement, Townsend sailed out of the office as Terry followed helplessly. Terry tried to talk as they walked to the garage, but Townsend ignored him and instead greeted everyone they passed with a cheery hello. When they reached an ivory Cadillac, Townsend motioned Terry into the front passenger seat.
“Sir, Whitaker is—”
“Patience. I just bought this baby a week ago, and she rides like a dream. Just sit back and enjoy.”
Clearly Townsend was going to listen only when he was good and ready. Terry fumed silently and scowled at the radio, which currently played easy-listening tunes. Townsend, on the other hand, hummed along. He had the most incredible driving luck Terry had ever seen. Every light turned green as he reached it; every lane he drove in was clear of traffic. And when he piloted the car to a downtown diner, a parking spot opened up right in front of the entrance.
The restaurant, just like Mrs. Lutz and her desk, looked as if it hadn’t changed much since 1952. There was a long counter with stools and a pie case, a row of booths along one wall and another along the front windows, and in the middle, a scattering of Formica-topped tables with chairs. The brown linoleum floor showed years of scuff marks, and a jukebox gathered dust in one corner. The waitresses wore white dresses with pink aprons, and hand-lettered signs behind the counter advertised lunch specials.
This wasn’t the type of place Terry would have pictured Townsend visiting. He assumed the director would favor dark, expensive restaurants with tuxedoed waiters and bartenders who gave a generous pour. But Townsend, clearly familiar with the diner, sailed to a booth that had just been cleaned by the busboy. Terry was surprised that Townsend was able to squeeze between the seat and the table, yet he slid in effortlessly. Terry sat across from him.
A waitress withLorenestitched on her pocket immediately brought them white mugs and filled them with coffee. “Room for cream?” she asked Terry as she poured.
“No, thanks.”
