Gathering Dark, Candice Fox [inspirational books for students .TXT] 📗

“Oh, hi.” I smiled.

“Can I help you?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I was just looking for my cat.” I jerked my thumb at the cat on the hood of the car at the end of the driveway. “I’ll get out of your way.”

I walked toward the cat. It lifted its head again and gave a low, evil moan that made my scalp prickle with fear. I visualized it launching at my face, latching on to my skull with claws like razor wire. The day had already seen me suffer a minor car accident. I stopped, turned around, and kept my head down as I walked back up the driveway.

“You know what? He’s fine. He’ll come home when he’s hungry.” I flashed a warm smile at the man with the towel. I pointed at some wildflowers growing between the old, rotting wooden chairs stacked against the wall. “Nice place you got here. Eccentric. Cute flowers.”

“It’s not my place,” the man said. “I’m the plumber. It’s a hoarder house in there.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Place is crazy. Stuff stacked up to the ceiling.” The plumber wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ve just come to clear out the toilet. You see that a lot with places like this. The water goes and they just keep using the toilet anyways.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“Guy’s got a lot of dolls in there, too,” he said. “And they’re all naked.”

We stood awkwardly, staring at our feet.

“I’ll be gone in a couple of days,” he said.

“Well.” I started backing away. “I hope you … uh. Get it all cleared up.”

“I will.”

I walked quickly to the street, turned a sharp left and broke into a jog when I was safely out of sight. Sneak listened to my story as I pulled out the car, turned, and drove the way we’d come so I wouldn’t have to pass by the house again.

“Who’s the hoarder?” Sneak asked. “Officer Lemon?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “That’s not what’s weird to me. It’s the plumber. I was walking out and he seemed almost determined to explain why he was there. Made sure I knew he’d be gone soon.”

“I’ve been reading the rest of the messages,” Sneak said. She had Lemon’s phone in her hand. “I can’t tell if they’re lovers or not. There’s a lot of strange talk from him in the beginning.”

“Strange talk?”

“Yeah, like…” She scrolled the phone. “This is going to change everything. A new life. Far away. I’m so glad you chose me.”

“Sounds kind of romantic.”

“Maybe.” Sneak shrugged. “But that’s the thing, right? If it’s You chose me like You chose me to be your partner or your lover, why aren’t there any messages before that time? I mean, the You chose me message is only the third message they ever share. So they met and a week later started talking like that?”

“She chose him for something else,” I said. “The criminal enterprise, whatever it is.”

“So why’d she choose him, of all people?” Sneak asked.

“Because he’s a cop?”

“Why not some other cop?” Sneak said.

“I don’t know.”

“Later he says Trust is everything. And she says It’s the most important thing we have.”

Sneak and I sat in silence.

“There’s one from Dayly to Lemon that says Are we on track?” Sneak read. “He answers with A week left, maybe less.”

“When was that one sent?” I asked.

“A week ago tomorrow,” Sneak said. “After that, the messages are all repeated.”

“What do you mean, repeated?”

“It just says Where are you? over and over again,” she said.

JESSICA

The line at the ticket counter at LAX was ten people deep. A large Greek family was spread out along the length of the counter, little kids playing on ride-on suitcases. Jessica stood tapping out messages on her phone as announcements sounded above her. Midday. She regretted not grabbing something to eat before she parked her car in the short-term lot, not excited about touring the sprawling food courts inside the airport.

In time she called a number on her phone listed as “Beans.”

“What’s the story?” she asked when the call connected. “You getting organized?”

“I’m always organized,” Beans yawned. She heard him groan as he stretched, the rumple of sheets and blankets down the line. “Cool it, chicky. This is going to be great.”

“You have to be there after eight.” Jessica moved a step forward in the line. “He’s got night shift. If you go earlier it’ll all fall in a heap.”

“No problem. We got this,” Beans said. “So no one will be there when we arrive?”

“No one.”

“I like it. I like it. I like it,” Beans said. “You know, I looked at the key you gave me. It’s a soap-bar copy, right? I haven’t seen one of these in years. That’s melted plastic, girl.”

“So what? It’ll work.”

“So that’s some old-school jailhouse shit.” Beans laughed. “I admire your, like, cunning. I mean, who are you? MacGyver?”

“You’re not old enough to know who MacGyver is,” Jessica sighed.

“You don’t have to do that no more, you know. You can copy a key from a photo if you’ve got something to show the scale.”

“Never mind. It’ll work.”

“I gotta know,” Beans said. “Is this whole thing a prank?”

“I’m not sure ‘prank’ is a serious enough word for what this is,” Jessica said.

“Cool-cool-cool-cool. So it’s, like, revenge, is it?”

“Now you’re getting closer.”

“Dude.” Beans snickered. “This is epic. We got to go all-out here. Big guns blazing. Cut loose, John Wick–style.”

“You have clearance to launch, Beansie,” Jessica said. She had reached the counter, so she ended the call. She put her badge and wallet on the desk and smiled. “San Francisco. Next available flight.”

BLAIR

I was procrastinating. Pushing aside the next step, the only logical step, in our search for Dayly. I’d dropped Sneak off, as she requested, on the corner of Hollywood and Highland, just down from the Madame Tussauds, where fans were waiting in a huddle to take pictures with a grimacing Beyoncé figure on the sidewalk. I watched Sneak disappear into the early evening crowds of tourists with shopping bags