Read Online Lost Soul (Harbinger P.I. Book 1) by Adam J Wright - Free Book Online Page A

shadows of the trees into the sunlight, I blinked at the sudden brightness, a welcome change after being in those gloomy woods. As we walked across the lawn, I relished the warmth of the sun on my face. But by the time we reached the Land Rover, I was too hot, and ready to crank up the AC.
    I got in and started the engine, closing my eyes as cold air blasted from the vents against my face. “You saw what happened back there, right?” Felicity asked.
    “You mean when you kicked his ass? Hell yeah, way to go.”
    She rolled her eyes. “No, I mean when he touched that iron fence.”
    I grinned. “Oh, yeah, I saw that.”
    “That isn’t James Robinson back there,” she said. “That’s a faerie.”
    “Exactly what I was thinking.” I drove down the driveway toward the gate.
    Felicity asked, “But if there’s a faerie assuming the likeness of James Robinson and pretending to be him, then where is the real James?”
    “That’s where it gets complicated,” I said. “The real James Robinson is trapped in the faerie realm.”

Chapter 8
    A s we drove back to Dearmont, a pang of hunger growled in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten anything since the apple bakes this morning and it was now past lunch time. “Shall we grab a bite to eat while we talk about what we’re going to do next?” I asked Felicity.
    “Sounds good. There’s a diner on this side of town that makes excellent burgers. Darla’s Diner. Just follow the highway back toward Dearmont. We passed the diner on the way out here.”
    “Did we? I don’t remember a diner,” I said. I usually made a mental note of every eating establishment I passed, especially those close to home. The nature of my work meant I didn’t always have time to cook a meal, so restaurants and diners were a valuable resource.
    “We were being chased by ogres at the time,” she reminded me.
    “Ah, that explains it.”
    Up ahead on the highway, I saw the dark green Taurus the ogres had been driving. It attached to a tow truck. Parked behind the tow truck was a black and white police cruiser, and standing watching the proceedings was the big sheriff I had seen on the internet, John Cantrell. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching the car with the busted hood and engine as its front end was lifted into the air by the crane on the back of the truck.
    When I’d seen Sheriff John Cantrell in the picture, standing by the lake, I had thought that he might wrestle grizzlies in his free time. Now that I saw him in real life, I figured bears would be too easy an opponent for this huge man. A T-rex might be more worthy an adversary.
    As we drove past, I looked for the redhead deputy, but she was nowhere to be seen.
    Darla’s Diner was a mile farther along the highway, a long, low building with a frontage that was mainly chrome and glass, glinting in the sun. A dozen trucks and cars waited in the parking lot and through the windows, I could see diners sitting at the tables, eating.
    “This a pretty busy place,” I said to Felicity.
    “I told you, they make good burgers.” She waited for me to park before jumping out and heading for the door. I followed, wondering if we’d get a table or have to eat in the car. I didn’t mind either way; I’d eaten in the Land Rover plenty of times. There was a collection of takeout boxes and containers in the back seat that could attest to that.
    The interior of Darla’s was furnished just like a million other diners in the country: counter and stools running almost half the length of the place, tables here and there, and booths by the windows with red vinyl upholstery.
    As I followed Felicity through the glass door into the air-conditioned establishment, the mouth-watering smell of fried meat and onions hit me, making my stomach rumble. The diner was noisy with sound of chattering customers and country music drifting from speakers mounted in the walls. That was good. It meant I could talk to Felicity without being overheard. In a quieter place,