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Makes me wonder if it’s because the baby keeps them up, because of his worry for Zane, or if Zane’s nightmares have brought back his own.
“You all right, Ty?”
“I’m fine.” He doesn’t smile, or tease me, so he’s basically lying to me, but I let it slide.
None of us are fine right now.
“The car had the scratch and the traces of yellow paint in the side, like Zane told us.” I nod at Dylan who takes a seat across from us. Tessa sits down beside him, her blue eyes wide.
“You saw the car?”
“Yeah. Got the numbers of the plate, too, though not the letters.”
“Without the entire plate, that won’t help,” Dylan says, “not unless we know the guy’s name.”
Awesome.
Letting out a breath, I slump back on the sofa. “The fucking car was there, guys. I saw it. Question is, what are we gonna do now?”
“Well, the house didn’t check out,” Dylan waves a hand. “We lack basic information. Told you, man, without Zane’s file, there’s jack shit we can do.”
Yeah, he’s said that, many times over. Dammit.
“Where’s Rafe?” Tyler mutters.
He was the one who called for a general assembly of sorts to discuss what I saw and what to do. Zane and Dakota aren’t here because Zane is at work and Dakota is at her mom’s, out of town.
“Rafe’s at Damage Control. Said he’d drive Zane home when he’s done.”
“Did something else happen I don’t fucking know about?” Tyler rumbles, frowning.
“Zane’s tired.” Dylan shrugs, but it’s forced. His brow is creased with deep lines. “Not sleeping well. Well, worse than usual.”
“Since we visited that damn house.”
“Since the damn house,” Dylan agrees and looks away.
Christ.
“Ash.” Audrey wanders into our living room, Scott in her arms. “I just talked to Mom on the phone. She says Zane should go to the agency tomorrow and say she’s sending him. They should give him the info.”
“Thanks, Auds.” I send her a grateful smile. “You fucking rock.”
Dylan’s eyes have brightened at the news, too. “Man, at last. Something we can work with.”
Hopefully.
“So is that what the bad feeling was about?” Audrey sits by my side, and I take Scott from her arms. He’s stuck his hand in his mouth and is chewing on it, dribbling saliva all over me. “That car?”
Was it? Seeing the car wasn’t a bad thing. It was a positive thing. Took down my frustration a notch, made me feel we’re getting somewhere, even if we’re not.
But maybe she’s right.
“So you’re a psychic now?” Tyler shoots me an amused look.
I shrug. “Got a problem with that?” Can’t explain it myself. Also can’t say it’s happened to me before.
“Nope. Knock yourself out,” Tyler mutters, though his brows have gone up in surprise at my seriousness. “Not like we’ve got much more to go on. We’re running on fumes and faith, hoping tomorrow will give us something concrete to use.”
