Page 6 of ILY
“I thought you were out of the field,” he says.
I don’t think he’s going to rat me out. “One last hurrah.”
He snorts and sighs. “You’re in luck. I’ve got a property out there. There was a cold case several decades back in the area, and it got passed to me when the guy who was managing it retired. I’ve been doing the Airbnb thing with it, but it’s vacant right now. Might be a little dusty.”
“I can deal with dusty. Can you scrub the listing until I’m done?”
“Easy. Something big on your plate?”
I frown. “Might be. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for this.”
“Anytime. Check your phone for the door code, and good luck.”
The line goes dead, and silence settles around me again. So, part one of the plan is ready, and part two will happen in a few days, when I walk into a dingy motel room that only hookers ever rent and see whether or not I’m looking evil directly in the eye.
CHAPTER THREE
LEAF
I might have mademyself two very strong drinks in preparation for this meeting with the person from the dark web. They called themselves SilentEcho, and the name gave me shivers. Never heard a silent echo before. Not sure that even exists, but then again, maybe this person doesn’t really exist either.
Because they’re late.
And I’m debating whether or not I should call it quits, call a car, and go home. In the comfort of my messy kitchen, I could make myself another martini. This time, no olives and not dirty. Maybe with sugar and strawberries this time.
Something sweet.
Well, that is, if Michael hasn’t eaten all the little berries I’ve managed to grow.
I pace the seedy motel room, the sole of my shoe catching on something on the carpet. I glance down and see that it’s a piece of gum. Fucking gross.
I stare at it and then at the bottom of my shoe.
A long-suffering sigh leaves my throat, and I scrub a hand over my face.
This is pure insanity. I’ve lost my fucking mind. I let out an unhinged laugh because ofcourseI have.
Iknow that. My aunt’s old house knows it. Her ghost knows it.
Michaelknows it, though he’s also mostly responsible for it.
I stare at the door that sits slightly off its hinges and glance down at my phone once more. This is where they told me to meet, sending me the coordinates and a time. But they’re not here. So either they’re dead on the side of the road somewhere, or maybe…
Maybe this is a setup.
My mind screeches to a halt, and my lungs constrict. Oh fuck, is this a setup? Am I going to jail? Buying TNT is technically illegal—probably a felony. Oh my god, what was I thinking? I should have run this by Thom. He would have convinced me to drink some chamomile tea with some honey from Otto’s bees and rethink my life’s choices.
I glance around, looking for some kind of escape, deciding that Michael isn’t worth prison time. I wouldn’t do well in there.
I bet they’d end up exploiting me and making me be the jail interpreter. Forfree.
Fuck that. I already feel like the last ten years I worked for little to no pay. The schools and agencies I contracted with took far too much from my paycheck, and the driving. Oh god, the driving.
Here, there, and everywhere. I loved it at first, really. But after a while, I started to have panic attacks at the sight of my steering wheel.
Needless to say, I burned out. Big-time.
I needed a break back then, and right now, I need a break from whatever non-reality I’m living in.
