this?
Wait, words? Sylvie turned her gaze to the window. Lucas had to be out there somewhere, close enough to be affecting her. She didn’t get words when he wasn’t nearby, just sensations. Her eyes scanned the road, looking for a car that might be parked, a pedestrian that she might recognize.
‘Lucas?’ It was a call, not simply a thought. But no answer came.
Her eyes narrowed as she passed the GPS tracker back to Rachel, her attention still focused outside the car.
James picked up on her uneasiness. “What are you looking at?”
She shook her head. The words were gone. If Lucas had been nearby, he’d moved on. She let Rachel take her time with the drink, but then insisted on walking her inside. As she returned to the car, her eyes swept the surroundings, looking for anything out of place.
‘Lucas?’ She tried again, but got no response.
But she paused, car door open, one hand resting on the roof, as a nondescript beige car parked across the street caught her attention. The distance was too great for her to feel the emotions of the occupants, but it looked as if two men were sitting in the front seats. She glanced back at the door of the school. Could Rachel be in danger?
And then she shook her head and got into the car. Whatever this was, it didn’t have anything to do with Rachel.
“What’s all that about?” James asked.
“I don’t know,” Sylvie answered, not trying to hide her uncertainty. “I think I need to call Ty.” She pulled out the phone he’d given her.
“Ah, you’re not planning on telling him we let the kid play hooky, are you? ‘Cause it’s almost Christmas and I don’t much want to get fired today.” At the exit to the parking lot, James checked both directions.
“Go left. Left,” Sylvie ordered, looking up from the phone.
“What? Why?” James turned to the left without waiting for an answer.
“I want to go past that . . . ah,” Sylvie said with satisfaction. They’d driven alongside the beige car which was pointed in the opposite direction, and she’d caught a burst of frustration from the men inside. “That car’s going to follow us,” she told James. “You might want to lose them.”
She found the number for the security room in the house and tapped it, as James accelerated away. The phone rang once, twice, then Ty picked up.
“What’s up?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting.
“I’m not sure,” Sylvie answered. “Did you find out anything about Lucas?”
Ty chuckled. “More or less.”
“What does that mean?” Sylvie asked. The amusement in Ty’s voice didn’t make any sense.
“I found out that he has higher-placed friends than we do,” Ty answered. “Fortunately, Gibbs is cool with it. Apparently getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night impressed his girlfriend. And one of the guys who did the dragging told him to apply for a job with them, that he did good work.”
“What the hell?”
Ty must have taken pity on the shock in her voice. “Gibbs tried to do a background check on the guy,” he explained. “He wound up in a basement somewhere. He thinks Arlington.”
“The Pentagon?” Sylvie blinked rapidly. That didn’t make sense. Lucas wasn’t—he didn’t—how could he . . .
“Oh, shit,” she said as the sirens started behind them.
“No, he thinks maybe DEA,” Ty answered, not realizing what she was swearing about.
“Ah, Sylvie?” James said, voice tentative.
“Awesome,” said Sylvie. “That’s just peachy. I gotta go, Ty. Talk to ya’ soon.”
With a sigh, she added, “Pull over,” to James as she disconnected.
The cops used their loudspeaker to order them out of the car, but Sylvie didn’t hesitate, even as James obediently put his hands on the roof of the car. She marched straight back, past the police officer who ordered her to halt, glaring at him in passing as he reached for his weapon.
“Stand down,” ordered a man in a lousy suit from the car behind the police car. The
Wait, words? Sylvie turned her gaze to the window. Lucas had to be out there somewhere, close enough to be affecting her. She didn’t get words when he wasn’t nearby, just sensations. Her eyes scanned the road, looking for a car that might be parked, a pedestrian that she might recognize.
‘Lucas?’ It was a call, not simply a thought. But no answer came.
Her eyes narrowed as she passed the GPS tracker back to Rachel, her attention still focused outside the car.
James picked up on her uneasiness. “What are you looking at?”
She shook her head. The words were gone. If Lucas had been nearby, he’d moved on. She let Rachel take her time with the drink, but then insisted on walking her inside. As she returned to the car, her eyes swept the surroundings, looking for anything out of place.
‘Lucas?’ She tried again, but got no response.
But she paused, car door open, one hand resting on the roof, as a nondescript beige car parked across the street caught her attention. The distance was too great for her to feel the emotions of the occupants, but it looked as if two men were sitting in the front seats. She glanced back at the door of the school. Could Rachel be in danger?
And then she shook her head and got into the car. Whatever this was, it didn’t have anything to do with Rachel.
“What’s all that about?” James asked.
“I don’t know,” Sylvie answered, not trying to hide her uncertainty. “I think I need to call Ty.” She pulled out the phone he’d given her.
“Ah, you’re not planning on telling him we let the kid play hooky, are you? ‘Cause it’s almost Christmas and I don’t much want to get fired today.” At the exit to the parking lot, James checked both directions.
“Go left. Left,” Sylvie ordered, looking up from the phone.
“What? Why?” James turned to the left without waiting for an answer.
“I want to go past that . . . ah,” Sylvie said with satisfaction. They’d driven alongside the beige car which was pointed in the opposite direction, and she’d caught a burst of frustration from the men inside. “That car’s going to follow us,” she told James. “You might want to lose them.”
She found the number for the security room in the house and tapped it, as James accelerated away. The phone rang once, twice, then Ty picked up.
“What’s up?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting.
“I’m not sure,” Sylvie answered. “Did you find out anything about Lucas?”
Ty chuckled. “More or less.”
“What does that mean?” Sylvie asked. The amusement in Ty’s voice didn’t make any sense.
“I found out that he has higher-placed friends than we do,” Ty answered. “Fortunately, Gibbs is cool with it. Apparently getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night impressed his girlfriend. And one of the guys who did the dragging told him to apply for a job with them, that he did good work.”
“What the hell?”
Ty must have taken pity on the shock in her voice. “Gibbs tried to do a background check on the guy,” he explained. “He wound up in a basement somewhere. He thinks Arlington.”
“The Pentagon?” Sylvie blinked rapidly. That didn’t make sense. Lucas wasn’t—he didn’t—how could he . . .
“Oh, shit,” she said as the sirens started behind them.
“No, he thinks maybe DEA,” Ty answered, not realizing what she was swearing about.
“Ah, Sylvie?” James said, voice tentative.
“Awesome,” said Sylvie. “That’s just peachy. I gotta go, Ty. Talk to ya’ soon.”
With a sigh, she added, “Pull over,” to James as she disconnected.
The cops used their loudspeaker to order them out of the car, but Sylvie didn’t hesitate, even as James obediently put his hands on the roof of the car. She marched straight back, past the police officer who ordered her to halt, glaring at him in passing as he reached for his weapon.
“Stand down,” ordered a man in a lousy suit from the car behind the police car. The
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