Reese flicked him the barest, questioning glance as they walked, then resumed watching the path ahead, careful to follow in Hound’s tracks, rather than leave any of his own. “Sterilized. They’ll heal.”
When he’d first met him, those sorts of comments had left Carter uneasy; Reese talked like a robot from a post-apocalyptic movie, rather than a regular twenty-something boy. But he thought, now, that he was starting to hear the faint threads of uncertainty in statements like those; Reese wasn’t the sort who would ever ask someone how to sound more normal, wouldn’t admit to his own strangeness.
He thought about what Mercy had said last night, about how Reese wasn’t the wild card of their two assassins, that he could be trusted.
He thought about what else Mercy had said, about his own lack of involvement and interest.
About crossing that bit of distance earlier, and the fast press of lips with Leah; about the prospect of more.
He took a breath. “That was really quick thinking last night. Stopping Tenny like you did. I didn’t react fast enough to get to him in time.”
“You couldn’t have stopped him,” Reese said, matter-of-factly. It clearly wasn’t meant as an insult. “You don’t know where to pinch on the wrist. You aren’t used to being cut. And he would have killed you, anyway, for trying.”
“Heh? You think. Probably. He’s an asshole on a good day.” He thought he played it off well, but it was all too easy to imagine Tenny ripping the knife from between gripping palms and plunging it between ribs. What if he’d done that to Reese last night? What then? “Hey, what’s his problem lately? He’s being even more of a dick that usual.”
Reese didn’t answer right away, and a glance proved his hands had curled into fists, the bandages cutting into the skin, and his mouth had turned down at the corners. He unflexed his fingers, but it looked like it took effort.
“Did you guys have a fight or something?” He was pressing too hard, probably, but true curiosity was winning out.
“Yes,” Reese said. And offered nothing further.
“Dude, that sucks.”
Reese nodded and stepped over a spiky clump of blackberry leaves.
“I may have to get you to show me the trick with the wrist pinch sometime.” Reese turned his head a fraction to regard him, brows lifted an infinitesimal amount in silent question. “In case I ever need to disarm anyone.”
After a long moment of his cold, blue, impossible stare, Reese nodded slowly and faced forward again. “I can show you.”
“Cool.”
Ahead, Rottie reached the tree line, and halted; squatted down and disappeared amid the tall grass. Everyone else halted, save Hound, who went to join his protégé, standing over him, looking down at whatever Rottie had found.
Carter cast another glance back at the building, its slanted shadow, the grass rippling like the sea in the stretch between. Crows squawked and fussed in the trees, unhappy about the human trespassers.
Something had happened here. He could feel it.
When he turned back, Rottie was standing, holding a dead, brown leaf carefully by the stem. “Blood,” he announced. “It’s old, and dry, and been sitting out in the sun and the rain, but it’s definitely blood.”
“Could be an animal,” Hound said, hands on his skinny hips. “Coyotes coulda killed a possum.” He was frowning, though, more than usual.
“Could be,” Rottie agreed, but he pulled out a clear plastic envelope and tucked the leaf carefully inside. “The pine straw’s disturbed here, going back through the trees. It’s too uniform to just be squirrels or birds digging around. It’s a trail. Someone walked – no, ran through here.” He glanced at Carter, specifically, as he tucked the envelope into his cut and said, “Walk very carefully. If you spot something, call me, don’t just pick it up.”
Carter nodded. “Yeah.” When they started up again, he said, “Still the incompetent one. Nothing changes.”
“No,” Reese said, surprising him. He stared at the ground, stepping lightly as they entered the shade of the forest. “You lack training.”
Carter felt another grin threaten. “I’ll have to work on that, too.”
“Yes,” Reese agreed, and fell silent again.
It was slow going, following the two trackers as they scanned, and knelt, and sniffed, and plucked at leaves, none of it jumping out at Carter as significant in any way. Though it was daylight, they clicked on flashlights often to sweep the ground, here in the shadow of the closely-clustered pines.
More blood was found on a green leaf still attached to its branch. A place where