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“What are we watching for?”
“Landlord again.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Man. Older. Fat.”
“How old? What color hair?”
I swallowed my bagel and cocked my head at her. “You’re full of questions.”
That annoyed her. “If I’m going to be sitting here, I might as well make myself useful.”
I looked at her for a second and grinned. “Okay then.” I fished my phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen, and pulled up a picture. I held it out for her.
She took the phone and looked at it. “This is him?”
“Yep.” I reached down to the side of my seat and pushed it back, almost to reclining.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m still hungover. You take first watch.”
“Are you serious?”
I peeked at her from behind half-closed lids. “You want to help?”
“I do, but, I don’t know.”
“Binoculars are in the glove. If you see him, wake me up.”
“Easton.” I could feel her nervousness, but I didn’t say anything. “Fine, whatever,” she mumbled.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I kept my eyes shut and tried to sleep, but I knew sleep wasn’t going to come.
Normally, sleep meant nightmares. And I wasn’t in the mood for sharing that part of me with Laney, or with anyone for that matter. What had happened was still too fresh in my mind, still too raw and powerful to try and explain to someone.
Laney switched on the radio. I listened to the oldies station and tried to rest. My headache had receded to the point of a slight, dull throb, which meant I could actually handle being a normal person for the day.
Suddenly, after what felt like two minutes, Laney was sharking my arm. “Easton, wake up!”
“What? I’m awake.”
“Look.”
I sat up, swinging my seat back into position. I took the binoculars from her.
“Second car back.”
I looked through and spotted him: our fat asshole landlord. He was climbing into the back of a beat-up station wagon.
“Hold on,” I said, and started the engine.
“What are you doing?”
“Following him.”
I pulled out into traffic and watched as the asshole pulled a U-turn. I made a left at the light and sped up. I caught sight of his car ahead and fell into traffic behind him, keeping my distance.
“So, like, two cars back?” Laney asked.
“More or less.”
She was quiet for a minute as we followed him. “Your mom told me you were really good.”
I glanced at her. “What are you talking about?”
“At being in the FBI. You were part of some special task force?”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
“What was it?”
“Not in the mood to talk.”
“You know, this would be a lot easier if you lightened up a little bit.”
I sighed, shaking my head. She had a point, but I wasn’t in the mood. “It was to catch serial killers.”
“What?”
“The task force. We were the FBI’s special serial killer task force. I was brought on as a special investigator and profiler.”
“Wow,” she said. “That sounds pretty amazing.”
“It was.” At first, at least, I thought, but I held my tongue.
“So did you, you know, catch any?”
I paused. “Yeah,” I said softly. “One.”
“Who was it?”
“Look, let’s concentrate on this, okay?”
She must have sensed something in my tone, because she let it drop. I was annoyed with myself for talking about it, and even more annoyed that I was so incapable of having a normal conversation about an important part of my life.
I concentrated on my driving and Laney lapsed into silence, probably absorbed in what was happening. We followed the asshole landlord for a few miles through an increasingly suburban area. The houses were larger and spaced farther apart, and I guessed we had left Mishawaka and were probably in a neighboring town.
Finally, the guy pulled into a subdivision. I followed, directly behind him but at a remove. He drove slowly until he pulled into a driveway, and I drove past it, noting the number.
“Is that his house?” Laney asked.
“Probably.”
“We should toilet paper it.”
I glanced at her and she grinned at me. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that would show him.”
“No, but it would be fun.”
“You’re probably right.” Smiling, I pulled the car over about a block from the asshole’s house.
“What now?”
“I think it’s Showtime.” I opened the door and climbed out. Laney followed. “Ready for this?” I asked her.
