Page 40 of In the Nick of Time
“But why? And why SPAM and not just regular people or, you know, theothers?”
“The others are much harder to kill. No offense to SPAM agents.”
“I’m sure none taken. So,” Nick said thoughtfully, “this mysterious killer may be targeting more vulnerable victims? But still not—what do you call regular people?”
“Normals. At least that’s what I’ve always used.”
“So, we’re abnormal. I fit right in.”
Nick sounded a bit shocked by that thought. Doug figured it hadn’t happened often in his life. Pondering his response, Doug stared up at the rapidly darkening sky. He’d forgotten how quickly it got dark in the desert. He was used to longer days in the summer and shorter over the winter, with long, drawn-out sunrises and sunsets.
“If that makes you happy, Nick. Personally, I don’t do labels since they don’t usually fit well. We should get back.”
“Did you see that?” Nick pointed to a stand of cacti on the other side of the lot.
Doug peered into the shadows. “What?”
“Isn’t that a tent?”
It was a tent hidden as well as it could be in the shadow of several huge rocks and a few tall cactus plants. Whoever lived there probably had already talked to authorities, but Doug wanted to make sure.
“Let’s see if anyone is home.”
“We could come back tomorrow when it’s not scary dark.”
“This will just take a second.”
The tent was empty. And it looked to Doug as if the occupant had been gone for a while, maybe even days. He didn’t want to rummage and there didn’t seem to be a reason to, so he left the rumpled sleeping bag and sacks of clothing alone.
“We’ll have to come back out tomorrow.”
“I toldyou we should’ve had the driver wait,” Nick said for the third time. “I have blisters.”
They’d ended up having to walk several miles to a truck stop. Doug was finally able to get a rideshare car to pick them up there and bring them back to the hotel.
“You were right,” Doug muttered. It’d only been a few days, but he now knew enough to realize those were the only words that would make Nick happy sometimes.
“I was right?!” Nick crowed, then sobered. “I don’t actually like that I was right. I’d rather be wrong and not have blisters on my heels the size of Hawai’i.”
“Has anyone ever said you are a drama queen?” He kept his lips from twitching into a smile as he focused on his footwear.
“No one.”
Doug looked up from untying his shoes.
“My aunt. Sometimes.”
“Why do you live with your aunt anyway?” Doug tried to find the right words and not be offensive. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like you’re happy there.”
“Oh.” Nick flicked his loafers to the side and flopped onto the mattress. “We get along okay. She doesn’t ask much in rent and I help her with maintenance and things like that. She took me in after my parents died—tragic elevator accident, in case you were curious—so I feel like I owe her. And then when I was laid off from the start-up, she let me move back into the basement.”
“Makes sense.”
They were both quiet and Doug thought about what was next. First order of business, regardless of the time, was checkingin with management. Spinning to face the desk, he opened his laptop and connected to the secure SPAM network.
The bee-doop sound repeated several times before a chat window popped up. It always bugged Doug that SPAM could see him, but he had no idea what April looked like.
“Agent Swanson, report,” said the slightly tinny voice.
