Read Online Golem in My Glovebox by R. L. Naquin - Free Book Online Page B

over the top of them for a better interrogation effect, but I’d already taken them off and put them in my purse.
    “Yes. No. She’s fine. She’s doing all the jobs I give her.”
    “Then what’s the problem?” I sat next to him and made him look at me. “Is it the personal stuff?” I knew it was. His discomfort prickled my skin and made my toes go numb.
    “It’s so damn awkward, Zo. Why can’t I send her home? She’s sorry. She won’t do it again. I’m sure of it.”
    I nudged him with my shoulder. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”
    He scowled. “You’re not going to let her go home, are you?”
    “Nope. Sorry. Talk to her. Sort it out. Then maybe get her to clean out the attic or something. The garage could use some work, too.”
    He picked at a loose thread on the hem of his bright Hawaiian shirt. “Fine. But for now, I thought I’d hang out here with you guys. Maybe watch some TV.”
    I tossed a distressed look in Riley’s direction.
    “Maurice,” he said. “Buddy. Brother. I’m going to have sex with Zoey in a few minutes. It’s going to be really loud, because we’re in a hotel, and because we can. There may even be barking and other animal sounds involved. Do you really want to be here for that?”
    I think my eyes may have bugged out a bit. My cheeks burned all the way down to my knees.
    Maurice, on the other hand, wasn’t particularly taken aback. He sounded more like a thwarted teenager forced to shut off the television and do his homework. “Fiiiine. Go do your monkey-sex thing. I’ll find something else to do.” He pulled himself from the bed and dragged his feet all the way to the makeshift closet. “I’ll be back if anything new happens.”
    Riley patted the monster diva on the shoulder as he walked past. “How about you call us on the phone, instead?”
    Maurice tossed his head back in a dramatic, put-upon pose. “Fine. I’ll call first.”
    Before we could tell him goodnight, he stepped into the opening, blended into the paint and disappeared as if he’d never been there.
    I tilted my head at Riley. “Barking?”
    He grinned and came toward me. “Maybe.”
    * * *
    The second day of travel was much like the first. Unremarkable, dull scenery. Weird souvenirs. Mile after mile of rocks that eventually turned to grazing cows and scrubby bushes. By the time we passed through the tiny town of Lebanon, Kansas, my eyes burned and my lower back was having a pity party. Riley slept in the dying light of twilight when I stopped the car across the road from a large metal plaque embedded in a small stone pyramid. A church not much bigger than an outhouse stood across the grass from the marker, with a few picnic tables under an overhang. A decorative sign declared Welcome to the Geographical Center of the 48 States .
    This, I knew, was not exactly true. The real center was about a half a mile away. The story was that the center was located on a private farm owned by a cranky farmer who didn’t like tourists. In reality, it was located within a fence surrounding the compound headquarters for the Board of Hidden Affairs. The farmer story was only to cover it up.
    “Rise and shine, handsome,” I said, stroking Riley’s arm. “I got us as close as I could. You have to guide me the rest of the way.”
    Riley sat up and rubbed his face. “Oh.” He blinked to focus. “We’re here. Follow the road around to the right.”
    Tires crunched as I guided the car over dirt. “How far is it from here?”
    “Almost there. Turn left here and go straight for half a mile. Then stop.”
    “There’s nothing here. There’s no road—just a field.”
    “Exactly.” His face was deadpan, giving nothing away.
    I gave him a cynical look, and followed his directions. The marker and its tiny outbuildings disappeared in my review mirror, but nothing appeared in front of us. Wide open space. The horizon. The setting sun.
    A crow crossed our path a few hundred feet ahead—the first sign of