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"A teenage boy who is not nearly as gullible as you seem to think. Whatever you are selling, I do not wish to purchase. Find easier prey."
With that, he'd walked off. Walked more quickly than he'd liked. More unsettled than he'd liked, and while he told himself he'd been right--she was some social worker, some religious do-gooder--his sixth sense for
trouble kept his feet moving as fast as they'd take him, out of that building and onto the next city bus, heading for parts unknown. Away from her. That was all that mattered.
Are you lost?
Gabriel started awake, his feet scrabbling against the ground as he narrowly avoided landing flat on his ass. Which was what happened when one drifted off to sleep while leaning on a tree. He blinked and gave himself a shake.
You're lost.
The voice seemed to echo from his memory, leaching into the real world, and he growled under his breath as he straightened.
He looked around. Was there anything else he needed to do here? He'd examined the tire tracks, which proved that Lambert had driven his SUV through thick brush before getting stuck--
Yes, getting stuck.
You're lost.
Gabriel pushed his mind back on course. Not as simple as it usually was. Even as he bent to examine the end of the tracks, he kept hearing that voice from his past, prodding at him.
Yes, yes, I understand. Lambert got himself lost. It is a poor analogy. Poor indeed.
He took photographs of the tire treads and then poked at them to determine some rough measurement of depth. A couple of inches? No sign that Lambert had struck anything that made the SUV stop. Simply wet ground, and if his all-wheel drive had left him mired in two inches of mud, he ought to demand a refund on the option.
Lambert had postulated a malfunctioning system, but the police report said his mechanic found no sign of that. The car had simply gotten stuck. In two inches of mud.
Gabriel looked around. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of movement to his left and spun, his eyes narrowing against the darkness.
It was night now. A check of his phone said an hour had passed.
Lambert mentioned time shifts.
No, Gabriel had fallen asleep. Standing up. While his teen years meant he'd perfected the ability to sleep anywhere, that did seem extreme.
He squinted into the night. Again, he caught a glimmer of movement just beyond his field of vision, making him spin and--
A pale figure darted through the trees.
"Who's there?" he said.
His voice echoed in the silence. He strode forward and pushed aside a bush to see a pale birch tree, the branches and leaves waving in the breeze.
He shook his head and started to turn back.
You're lost.
Gabriel squeezed the bridge of his nose. A soft sigh echoed through the night. He didn't even look up. The wind in the trees. A white birch in the shadows. A voice from his past. All adding up to nothing more than his own nerves, which was, yes, unnerving. Not like him at all. He felt unsettled.
Unsettled.
His phone rang. He snatched it out to see the name of the client from this morning, the one whose call he'd forgotten to have Lydia return. One last glance around at the forest, and then he answered the phone as he strode back to his car.
FIVE
GABRIEL
When Gabriel walked into Lambert's office, he found the architect working on two computers, desktop and laptop, switching from one to the other. Which seemed odd. Not that Gabriel failed to respect efficient multitasking, but from his vantage point, he could see the laptop screen, which showed what looked like a vacation-planning website, with a young couple splashing through the surf under the heading "Summer Sand Sale!"
