“Assuming that’s really his car and his name…,” Frankie said, sipping her latte.
“You think the car is stolen.” I said, flat.
Frankie sighed. “I did, but I checked the stolen car list we have. None match that make or model.”
“The address is in a nice neighborhood,” I said.
Frankie nodded. “Yeah, maybe the guy is loaded.”
“I don’t care how much money he has,” I said, still looking at the address.
“Yeah, I know,” Frankie said, setting her coffee down. “So what are you gonna do with that information?”
I thought about that as I gathered up my tray and cup. “I’m going to go see him.”
“You’re going to just knock on his door?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”
“You got guts.” Frankie grinned, but then the grin fell away. “I just hope he isn’t some weird car-stealing stalker,” she replied as we threw all our trash away.
My eyes wandered toward the stairs and toward the tapestry where I could’ve sworn I saw someone. Then I thought about the figure I saw hurrying away from the building. It could’ve been a student rushing to class.
It could have been someone else.
I really hoped Frankie wasn’t right.
Chapter Fifteen
“Anaphylactic shock - a severe, sometimes fatal, reaction to a substance to which a person has an extreme sensitivity, often involving respiratory difficulty and circulation failure.”
Dex
I looked up “ways to die” on the internet. I didn’t find any ways to possibly kill a Target, but I did learn I wasn’t the stupidest guy on the planet. Apparently there was a waiting list for that and it was very, very long. According to one site, one of the manliest ways to die was by lighting yourself on fire. It seemed to me the manliest way to die would be to not die at all. Self-preservation is a lot harder than most people realize. Probably because more people live closer to the way I do now than the way I did before I died.
I clicked through the videos and articles, searching for something that might actually give me some ideas. I never thought in a million years as I was living on the violent streets of the city that I would need ideas on how to kill someone. And I guess I really didn’t need ideas… It was just that the ideas I had weren’t something I cared to live again.
I was looking through an article about asphyxiation when the doorbell rang. I glanced up past the computer screen and into the kitchen where Hobbs was cooking up some dinner.
“I will see who that is, sir,” he said, grabbing his cane and going to the front door.
I returned my attention to the computer screen. “Tell them to go away.” I didn’t have any friends so I knew it wasn’t anyone I wanted to see.
A few moments later Hobbs came back into the room, clearing his throat. “You have a visitor.”
“I’m busy, Hobbs,” I said, annoyed.
“Sir,” he said again, with more emphasis, and I looked up.
I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair.
Piper was standing a few feet behind him and she was looking at me. “Piper,” I said, getting up from the chair. “I-I… How did you know where I lived?”
Her eyes narrowed and she glanced back toward the front door. “How did you know my name?”
“It was on your nametag… at the diner.”
“Oh. Right,” she said, looking a little less alarmed.
