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He just stares at my brother, gaze blank. He doesn’t reply.
Silence settles heavy over us.
Hell.
We didn’t discuss this, but the whole point of coming out here with Zane was that he’d give directions, or at least indicate the general area where the house is to be found. Otherwise this trip was for nothing.
Right now, he’s our only source of information, and his chillingly empty gaze doesn’t bode well.
“I can’t…” He stops, glances out the window. “Can’t remember.”
“Z-man—”
“I can’t fucking remember, dammit.” He swings an elbow into Tyler’s side, and my brother gasps out in surprise. “Lemme fucking go, I can’t—”
“Zane. Zane!” Before I can move, Tyler has grabbed him around the shoulders and immobilized him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
The look Rafe gives us through the rear-view mirror is wide and horror-struck.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Zane mutters, shaking. “I’m sorry, fucker.”
“Everything’s okay,” Tyler says, although nothing’s okay.
We roll down the avenue, over the bridge, over the river. We drive past unfamiliar houses, unfamiliar streets. It’s a path into the unknown.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Zane asks, his voice like broken glass.
“We should have waited to see what the agency coughs up in way of info before going off all half-cocked to check things on our own,” Dylan mutters, twisting around in his seat to look at us.
“You’re not helping,” I growl at him.
“Just saying, man. We jumped the gun on this one.”
“Who knows how long it will take for them to get back to us? Ev says it may take weeks.”
“And what does driving around in an unknown town helps us if—”
“Stop,” Zane hisses, and we all freeze. He grimaces as if in pain and scrubs a hand over his face. “Just stop.”
In the new, strained silence, the only noise is the engine of the Mustang.
“We came here on the off chance Zane might remember something,” Tyler finally says, steel in his voice, challenging us. “It was a gamble from the start. So calm your tits and let us think.”
“I’m just gonna drive around,” Rafe announces, “give Zane time. See if the place jogs his memory. That okay with you, Z-man?”
“Whatever the fuck,” Zane grinds out, and that’s as much of a reply as we’ll get at this point, I guess. Rafe seems to sense that, too, so he puts his head down and keeps driving.
***
An hour later, we’re still driving. Zane hasn’t said another word, and Rafe’s face in the mirror is troubled. He’s driven us on either side of the river, down by the airport where the water expands like a lake, and back up, then through streets and more streets until I’m sure we’re going in fucking circles.
I blink sleepily at the houses streaking by. Good thing it’s summer, and I don’t have any classes, and thank God the Damage Boyz took over the shop today, manning the front desk in shifts while doing their job and inking customers.
My cell dings, and I pull it out of my back pocket to find a text from Audrey, asking me if we found anything.
I reply with a short “no” and scowl at my phone screen.
“Give it time,” she writes back. “Let’s see what the agency gives us. That’s our best bet.”
