Page 46 of Drowning in Darkness

“Congrats on the use of a big word, champ. But what on earth would getting nuggets be a metaphor for? Enlighten me. I’ll wait.”

Definitely a brat. The corner of my mouth quirks up. Does she like her hair pulled? I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes closed, hoping to erase that image. She laughs, the sound both husky and light at the same time. Not helping, Stephanie.

“I’m here,” Camryn cuts in. “Here, eat the ten-nugget box and see if that helps.”

Helps what?

“Yum. BBQ sauce.”

“Most people say barbecue,” I utter.

“Idiots,” Stephanie declares. “Strawberry milkshake, too? Ooh, Agent Sinclair, you’re really treating me.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Painkillers made her loopy,” Camryn explains.

“Shush, I was already loopy,” Stephanie whispers. “Don’t you know I spent most of my adult days in an institute?”

She gasps. “Are we in Idaho? Fun fact—it’s the potato capital of the US.”

“Focus on the food and leave the map and sightseeing to me,” Camryn says. Wait, why are they in Idaho? That’s not where the safe house is.

“You can’t sightsee a potato.”

“Pink is not your favorite color,” I inform her.

“Got it.”

Zero surprise in her voice. In the short time she’s had to consider all the facts, Camryn has correctly deduced where the problem lies. She followed her gut because she had no intention of ever going. What isn’t apparent is her plan.

“Why are you in Idaho, Agent Sinclair? And how far have you gotten?”

“Sorry, bad reception,” Camryn says, her voice perfect and clear. “I’ll update you shortly.”

I blink as the phone cuts off and any notion of tracking them disappears. I glance around my sanctuary, the one no one knows about. It’s my escape.

She can’t know. Right? And she wouldn’t dare.

Fuck. She totally would.

SIXTEEN

STEPHANIE

Bonding over murder fantasies was not on my to-do list.

Camryn has no intention of taking me to the safe house. She hasn’t explained, but she’s testing loyalties, and after years of assessing people’s behaviors, I can say with certainty that the AD just failed.

It’s in the tense line of her shoulders and the thin press of her lips. She’s furious, and I almost feel sorry for whoever is about to be on the receiving end of her wrath. Still, that doesn’t answer where we are going, and I’m afraid to ask because I have both a sinking feeling and a flutter in my stomach. Of course, that could be the lovely cocktail of painkillers.

“I need the restroom,” Camryn murmurs, pulling into a gas station. That doesn’t seem likely since the woman has the bladder of a rhino. My eyes flick to the fuel gauge, but it’s three-quarters full and we’ve already stocked up on snacks. I have enough to behave like an unsupervised child at the candy stand for a week.

She slows into the shadowed parking lot. Night has fallen, and the lights appear to have been broken.

“Okay,” I drawl.

We exit the car, and I frown when she leaves the keys and her unsecured phone inside, but Camryn doesn’t make mistakes, so despite my misgivings, I keep my mouth shut. We make the redundant trip to the restroom, in case we have to justify the stop.