Chapter 9 Non-Resolutions
Chapter nine
Non-Resolutions
“I know I’m the one who encouraged you to pursue her,” Lance said, “but you obviously didn’t leave base often enough. Staking out her apartment is too much.” His voice carried over the faint rattle of the phone as it jumped around in the cupholder while Jon drove.
Jon rolled his eyes, spotted an acceptable location, and turned off the main road. “I’m not doing it to be a perv. I’m not fucking Garland.”
Lance barked out a laugh. “Shit, I forgot about him. Yeah, that creep deserved what he got, all right.” He drew a breath. “Okay, then why?”
Jon cut his headlights as he rolled behind a nice cluster of foliage and finally came to a stop. “Have you heard about the spike in missing women in the area?”
“I have.”
“The teenage girl who works at Jen’s bakery went missing today.
Jenna and I took a quick drive over to her family’s house thinking to narrow down the timeline, and the girl’s mother shut us out.
” Jon scowled at the memory. They’d let themselves get distracted, somewhat by necessity, but that problem hadn’t gone away, either.
“We were gone approximately twenty minutes before I got eyes on Jenna’s apartment again, but in that time, someone let themselves in without tell-tale signs of forced entry.
If they left a calling card, it wasn’t in a main room. ”
“Suspects?”
“No one she could think of. She doesn’t give out her key, and we spoke to her landlady, who hadn’t seen anything aside from my truck that was out of place.”
“Well, that’s shady as shit.” Lance grunted. “Why didn’t you clear your girl outta there?”
“You think I didn’t try?”
“So, you admit she’s your girl.”
Jon reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what we are. Don’t change the subject.”
Something rustled through the line before Lance sighed. “Shit, man, you can’t go hunting kidnappers and stakeout someone’s place at the same time.”
“I’m aware. Shame my only reliable backup insists he’s still bedridden.
” Jon twisted around to dig into his bag for the gear he would take with him.
Not the tactical setup he might once have preferred, but with luck, the night would be long and uneventful, anyway.
He’d reevaluate the risk of going for better equipment once the sun was up again.
“I still have stitches in my leg, asshole. Like, a shit-ton of stitches. It’s barely been a day,” Lance fired back.
“What was it you said to me back in that ditch when we were still riflemen?”
Lance groaned. “You sonofabitch, that was years—”
“‘As long as it’s still attached’ I think was your caveat.” Jon popped open the door, grabbed his phone, and began spreading things out on the hood while they talked. “I seem to recall you said you needed one or two nights tops to sleep the bad shit off. Depending on how well fed you were.”
“Okay, okay, listen, the timing sucks ass, but there’s a method to my madness.
You gotta trust me.” Lance sighed. “I won’t be healed up before the end of the week at best. Obviously, I didn’t realize you’d need field backup while I was out of commission.
I just thought you were looking at chasing down a couple punks. ”
Jon froze halfway through tucking his preferred handgun into his waistband.
“What the fuck? End of the week?” The answer made as little sense as the fact that Lance could be so certain of it, to say nothing for the man’s continued calm.
Calm was not the first word that described Lance Blackburn on the average day.
“Is there something worse going on? Something you haven’t told me?
” A sickening thought occurred to him and Jon had to fight not to throw his fist into the hood of his truck. “If you’re not safe there—”
“At ease, Marine,” Lance interrupted sharply. “It’s not like that. And if it were, I’m a little insulted, Jon. I’m a goddamn Master Gunnery Sergeant, not a newborn. I could kick any and every scrubbed-up ass in this place, stitches and all, if I had to. I’m good.”
“Then I repeat,” Jon said, resuming his prep, “what the fuck?”
Lance laughed again, but quieter. “The answer to that probably won’t help you relax. Especially since I don’t think you remember.”
“You’re not helping reassure me.”
Lance scoffed. “Okay. Do you remember a blonde chick, kinda classically pretty but super haughty vibes? My first night here, right around when I woke up from the anesthesia? She came into the room, introduced herself as Ella, froze you in place with her mind, then sent you out to get coffee so she and I could talk. Any of that ring a bell?”
It was Jon’s turn to scoff. “I think I’d remember that. Next time, I’ll tell the surgeons a lower dose.”
“Seriously, such an asshole. Assuming there’s gonna be a next time.
” Lance chuckled. “Anyway, Crazy Ella tried telling me she was a goddess. Legit being-of-divinity shit. I’ll spare you the details, but basically, she gave me two choices and a short window, and conditions I would recognize that would bolster her claim.
Kinda like that time we accidentally ran into that magic chick that time our CO got us lost, and she did magic to prove herself. ”
Jon turned and leaned a hip against the side of the truck. Of course, he remembered running into the odd woman years before. She was one of the encounters that had helped to widen their world-view, but achieving that widened view had been a jarring experience. Even for him.
Still, a fucking goddess? Jon had started questioning religion well before he’d hit puberty, and knowing what he knew about the varieties of life in the world, it would have been easier to accept nearly anything else.
Another magic-wielder, for instance. Except Lance was about as well-educated on all of that as he was.
Lance kept talking. “So, I effectively agreed to let Ella slow my usual healing process in exchange for a new opportunity.”
Jon blinked. “A new opportunity.”
“Fuck, man, it sounds hokey out loud, even to me. Don’t make me say it.”
“You better fucking say it if you want me to even consider believing this shit.”
Lance sighed and lowered his voice. “My soul mate is here.” He said the words so quickly, Jon needed another moment to hear them.
At which point, Jon found himself too stupefied to laugh. “Your what?”
“And I have this one week to leave enough of an impression that she’ll at least be open to keeping in touch,” Lance said, as if Jon hadn’t spoken. “Otherwise, I’ll be released from the hospital and guaranteed never to get my happy ending.”
“Your soul mate,” Jon repeated. “The goddess told you that?”
“I said it sounded hokey!” Lance grunted. “Listen, I hate not being there for you, but this once I’ve got to prioritize the needs of me. And the only way I can explain it is that when she walked in—”
“The goddess I don’t remember?”
“No, Lynn.”
“Lynn?” Was Lance high?
“Are you listening? My soul mate, shithead,” Lance snapped.
“Anyway, I knew when I saw her. I felt like … I dunno, man, like I must’ve had the same dumb look on my face as you did yesterday every time you looked at your bakery girl.
So, I took the deal. The Marines don’t want us anymore, right?
No reason, then, not to think about a different kind of future.
” He sighed, his words reverberating through Jon’s head like they’d been beaten on war drums. “We both should.”
Jon scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re right. That sounds ridiculous. If you’d ever once had a problem with drugs, I’d be calling the hospital after we hang up to have your room checked.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I said ‘if’.” Jon straightened. “Although maybe you do have a point. But I can’t think about that yet. I’ve got to get going, so if you’re good, I’ll be off grid for a bit.”
“Yeah, man, I’m good.” Tension slipped into Lance’s tone. “There anything I can do? A name or something you need researched? I’ve got internet.”
Jon hesitated. It hadn’t been his intent, but it would save him time. “Sure, if you’re up for it. An address I need to find so I can check it out later.” It was his turn to hesitate. “Turns out my grandpa left me something that’s been held there.”
Lance whistled. “I’ll get to digging, then. Hit me.”
Jon fired off the address he’d memorized before disconnecting.
With a few final movements his phone was switched to airplane mode, tucked into a pocket, and the last hunting knife strapped to his leg.
Keys went into the pocket with the phone and he shrugged on the oversized bottle of water he’d picked up in town.
He wasn’t planning a multi-day stakeout, so the single bottle was plenty.
For the same reason, he wasn’t worried about his truck.
He set off on foot from there, moving quickly through the forest and keeping out of sight from the roadway.
Jenna’s wasn’t far, and it required minimal energy to expand his hyrdo-sweep to watch his own six.
While he would have preferred to take a position that kept an eye on her front door, the layout of her apartment meant that would leave him mostly blind to the backside—where her bedroom was.
If she was being stalked, if whoever had broken into her home hadn’t done so randomly but rather had moved only his milkshake on purpose, Jon couldn’t afford to leave himself blind to the space she was most likely to be.
Fortunately, he could keep a sensory eye on all angles of her apartment even when he couldn’t keep physical eyes on them. He told himself that had to be enough and hunkered into a good position, hoping for a long, uneventful night.