“This secret compound is how you brought Luca back?” Betty asks from the back seat.
“Something like that.” The GPS calls out directions and I make a right turn too fast. Everyone with hands grabs on to something to steady themselves. Honey is safely buckled into her harness in the middle seat, but the momentum sends her over to Betty, whose face she happily licks.
“I take back what I said before, Emery,” Betty says, petting the dog. “You really were doing important work. Imagine all the people who could be saved.”
“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Annie says, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
“My late husband died of a heart attack,” Betty tells us. “What a blessing this would have been.”
“A couple of mad scientists, am I right?” Crash says proudly.
In the rearview mirror, I see Betty nod and run a gentle hand through Honey’s fur again. “And you saved her, too?”
“We did,” Annie says with a proud smile.
“With medicine that’s in that cooler?”
“Partly,” I say.
“Amazing,” Betty muses, followed by a brief pause. “Why is it labeled ‘menstrual vitamins’?”
“It’s a long story. And speaking of long stories”—Annie leans over dramatically to eye the speedometer—“please don’t make me come up with one when you get pulled over for speeding. Girl, slow down.”
“Sorry.” I begrudgingly ease my foot off the accelerator, stress rising as our speed drops. Luckily, according to the GPS, we’re almost there. “What is this place anyway?” I’d been in such a hurry after Vince’s text that I’d grabbed everything related to Compound Y and entered the address without looking any further.
Crash gazes out the window. “It’s an industrial complex. I knew a contractor who had a shop out here.”
I turn into a parking lot set back from the main road. There are rows of single-story brick buildings, most of them with large garage doors on one side. And because it’s after hours, the entire parking lot is empty.
“I do not feel good about this at all,” Betty says.
“What part don’t you feel good about?” Annie asks, turning around. “That four completely out-of-their-depth and with no sense of self-preservation idiots are attempting to rescue someone who’s been kidnapped and being held against his will? Or that the bad guy is telling us to bring the supersecret compound to a bunch of empty, dark buildings where nobody will hear us scream?”
“I was going to say that I don’t have any cellular service here, but thank you for the perspective, Annabella.”
My headlights cut across the front and illuminate the addresses. “It’s that one right there. Number twelve.” Of course it’s the one set back from the others.
Betty leans forward to see out the front window. “It seems relevant right now to mention that I once watched a television program where they said prostitutes know never to go with a john to a factory or a warehouse.”
“We call them sex workers now,” Annie corrects.
“You can call them whatever you want,” Betty says prudishly. “At least they’re smart enough not to walk into a murder building.”
Shifting into park, I turn in my seat to face them and see Crash taking off his shirt. “What are you doing?”
“It’s time to lock in. I can’t kick ass in a shirt.”
“There is no ass-kicking in the plan. Let’s go over it again. You guys are staying here. If I’m not out in ten minutes, you can call the cops.”
“I’m serious, Em, I can’t let you go in there alone,” Crash says.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Annie says with a sigh, “but I agree with the shirtless guy.”
“This is fucking Vince!” I say. “He’s a dumbass.”
“Yes, and he or someone connected to him most likely hit your husband with a car,” she reminds me. “Do you remember that part?”
“With vivid detail.” I’ll never, ever forget that. “But I’ve already gone too far in bringing you. Your job is to stay out here and not let yourselves be seen. Got it?”
