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Nope. But I’m doing the job they couldn’t.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, unless you’re a cop, that’s not happening. I can give you a call if he comes back, but that’s it. Or did you need help with other things?” She offers me a wink.
“I’m good,” I say, cold as ice, and rush out of the dusty-ass motel before she can blink. Well, this was a complete waste. One hundred and fifty for this shit.
I get inside my car, take a deep breath to get my anger under control, and drive off.
I’m right back to square one.
With nothing but a name.
But I’m not giving up.
The woman watched the young guy climb back inside his car through the window. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She stood still and listened, waiting for a specific sound: his tires screeching down the road. The van took off at full speed, and she ran to the phone behind her, frantically dialing a number she knew all too well. It rang a total of five times, until finally, someone picked up.
Not a word was uttered down the line.
“You were right about the transaction. They tracked it,” she spoke quickly. “But there’s something else.”
12
Before The Storm
WINTER
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“Haze, wait, don’t go.” My footsteps echo in the empty apartment we used to call home. Everywhere I look is a reminder of how bad we screwed this up. A reminder that, in the end, our best shot still wasn’t good enough.
“I can’t. I… We’re a lost cause, Winter. It’s best if I just go.” His hand lies on the doorknob.
“But why? What happened? What cha
nged?” I can barely see him through the tears. “We were so happy.”
He stops, his back facing me. He stands still for a quarter of a second, until, finally, he ushers himself back to me. “Were we?” He cups my face and wipes a rolling tear off my cheek with his thumb. “Or were you?”
What?
“Deep down, you know something’s wrong, don’t you? You’ve known for a while now.”
“No, I haven’t. I don’t… I—”
“Yes, you do. You just refuse to see it.”
“See what?”
“The truth.”
“What truth?” I hold on to him for dear life. In every way that I can—his clothes, his arms, nothing is off-limits. He reaches for the handle again. I’m sobbing at this point. “Haze, please.”
“I have to go.” He opens the door.
“Why?” Desperation eats me whole.
This time, he’s the reaching one out for me. He grabs my shoulders and shakes them, hard, as if to knock some sense into me.
