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“What happened?”
“Where’s the blonde woman who had the dog?”
“Did she get hit?”
I’m surrounded by kind, caring people who are getting on my last nerve. Paigelynn played me for a fool, running behind the mini-mart before I could get a trace on her, and now I’m holding a shivering little yappy dog, the chattering crowd demanding my attention, and all I can think is that Paigelynn’s about to get caught by someone worse than The Basher.
And then there’s me.
With her, I have limited protection because there are more people who want her alive than dead, and if I have possession of her, I won’t be killed off as quickly, either.
But without her? I’m just a fucking target. Might as well paint a bull’s-eye on the back of my head and stand in a shooting gallery offering potshots.
“Thank you, everyone. Little Winnie here is fine. I think my wife just had to go to the bathroom and the dog slipped out of the car. We’re good!”
Everyone peels off, giving Winnie a wave, but one older woman is insistent. She’s wearing a t-shirt with a politician’s name on it and glares at me under a baseball cap.
“You need to have a proper car carrier for that dog, you know. Can’t have her loose in someone’s lap!”
“Good advice. We’ll get one as soon as possible.”
“Not good enough!”
“Excuse me?”
“You wouldn’t drive around with a child without a car seat, right? Dogs are the same.”
“You want me to buy a car seat for my...dog?”
“A secured carrier!”
Eyes combing the area, I fight to pattern-match. The more I let this old bat yammer on, the less of a scene we’ll make. If I argue, that just escalates and draws attention.
I need as little attention as possible right now. Be boring. Not memorable.
Fade into the woodwork.
Where the fuck is Paigelynn?
How did she disappear into thin air? The space around us doesn’t give me many options, but if I pick wrong, I’ll never find her. No way she went into the big grocery store. None of the tiny stores around it – a hair salon, a liquor store, two banks, a dentist – make any sense.
She doesn’t have Uber, or money, or credit cards.
And she’s not going to go to the police. Brainwashing might make her believe incredibly outlandish things, but she’s been taught since day one that the police are “the bad men,” so I know that’s not an option.
Or a worry.
A billboard in the distance turns from still image to video, and then I realize what the church in the distance is.
Holy fuck.
With an emphasis on the last word.
Shedidn’t.
There’s no way she’s that reckless, is there? That naive? That –
What am I thinking?
