Soulless The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,55
Maybe one of these days I could actually go out and have a couple drinks without it backfiring on me, but apparently now was not the time in my life when I could pull that off.
The road went by, on and on as the GPS guided us onto the freeway and we headed north. My head swam with thoughts of James and Zack, Zack and James. I had been so close with James, so close to something I doubted I’d ever be able to have with Zack. Or anyone, actually. On the other hand, I knew almost nothing about James; in fact, all I knew about him was that he seemed to be the only man I’d met that I could touch without harming.
Plus, I knew how he looked naked. And it was...not bad. Not bad at all.
I cursed my responsibility again, and thought about Charlie, sitting in the bar even now, doing what she wanted to do when she wanted to do it. She blew through town when she felt like it, hung out with me when she wanted to, and, like some kind of idiot, I gave her money pretty much any time I saw her. Maybe I felt guilty because I thought I had it so much better than her, like I’d gotten lucky. Hell, I probably had. But she didn’t even seem like she was trying, just doing whatever she wanted.
Meanwhile, I had just put off something I wanted more than almost anything else in favor of doing something I had to do.
I fell asleep sometime after passing a sign that read Chippewa Falls and when I woke up there was light on the horizon. Reed was talking to Scott in a hushed voice, and I heard them both share a chortle. “Where are we?” I asked.
Scott looked over at me. “About five miles from Eagle River. Directorate analysts went over property records in the area and found a few anomalies for us to check out.”
“Oh?” I blinked my eyes. “How far behind us is Kat?”
“At least four hours,” he said. “She’s got some agents with her, and they’re going full tilt with the sirens on, but they’re just west of Eau Claire now.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and come up empty the first few places,” Reed said from behind us. I looked back at him in askance and he shrugged. “It could happen.”
We followed the GPS, passing through the town itself and out a side road, stopping at an old building on the outskirts, an aluminum shed that looked a little like a barn. After taking a hard look around inside, we found nothing. The next stop was an abandoned farm on the other side of town. By the time we got out of the car, the sun had been up for a little while and it was already hot. I left my jacket in the car and rolled up my sleeves, shedding my gloves. Reed and Scott shared a look and steered well clear of me as we walked up the dirt road toward the farmhouse.
My holster was solid against my ribs, and, I realized about halfway up the drive, quite visible since my jacket was gone. I felt for my FBI ID and remembered I’d left it and my wallet in the jacket. I shrugged and looked at Scott. “Got your ID?”
“Yep,” he said, patting his back pocket.
“Good. I’d hate to get shot by some old farmer because I couldn’t properly identify myself.”
“As a fake FBI agent, you mean?” Reed cracked a grin when he said it.
We walked up the dusty road, my shoes picking up an accumulation of particles as we went, a fine sheen of light brown earth on the black surface. “How many more of these property anomalies do we have to check?”
“Three more,” Scott said as we reached the farmhouse. The screen door was open, hanging off its hinges. The door behind it was cracked and didn’t look to be in much better condition. The white paneling that was wrapped around the house was in shambles, and looked like it had been there since the early 1900s, gray in some places, cracked and peeling. The shutters were off all but a few windows and the glass was broken out of those that I could see. “I don’t think we’re going to have to deal with anyone living here,” Scott said in dark amusement.
“I don’t know about that,” Reed said. “This looks like a fine place for some snakes to nest;