Page 34 of Hellbent

“Twenty.”

“No.”

“Eighteen.”

“No.”

She squirmed a bit more. “Sixteen.”

He started up again, and she hurried to stay at his side. The only colors were shades of gray and sepia. The moonlight ripened the green squash to a pale yellow.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“When you lie, your blink rate picks up. You’ve also got a one-shouldered shrug that’s a tell. And your hands—just keep your hands at your sides. Your body language talks more than you do, and that’s saying something.”

“God,” she said. “You sound just like Jack.”

He took a moment with that one.

They cleared the squash and came onto a stretch where something—pumpkins?—had been recently harvested. Hacked vines populated the barren patch, pushing up from the earth like gnarled limbs. An aftermath scent lingered, fecund and autumnal, the smell of life and death.

“It doesn’t matter how old I am,” she said. “I can help.”

“How? Do you have locations, addresses for Van Sciver?”

“Of course not. You know how he is. Everything’s end-stopped six different ways. I didn’t even know where I was most of the time.”

“Do you have any actionable intel on him?”

“Not really.”

“Do you know why Jack was in Alabama?”

She colored slightly. “Is that where he died?”

“Joey, listen. You’re raw, totally unbroken—”

“I’m not a horse.”

“No. You’re a mustang. You fight well. You have extraordinary coordination. But you’re not finished, let alone operational.”

“Jack sent you to me.”

“To protect you. Not get you killed.”

“I have training.” She was angry now, punching every word. “I knocked you on your ass, didn’t I?”

“You can’t imagine the kind of violence that’s coming.”

“Did Jack advise you to just ship me off somewhere to hide for the rest of my life?”

The shed loomed ahead, a dark mass rising from the earth, the outline of the beater truck beside it. Evan quickened his pace.

“Jack died before he knew how this would all unfold. I have only one concern now, and that is finding Van Sciver and every person who had a hand in Jack’s death and killing them.” Evan pulled open the creaky truck door and flipped down the visor. The keys landed in his palm. He looked back at Joey. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I’m not useless.”

“I never said that.”