Chapter Thirty-Five
I COULDN’T TELL if the driver was relieved or disappointed he missed out on a fare to Green Bay.
But he deposited us back at the cannery without too much grumbling.
Once we got Sarah’s body situated in front of the TV with some snacks and a beer and a cat on her lap, I took Jacob aside by the kitchen and said, “Did Sarah give you any idea where she was taking Boswell?”
“No, she just flounced off in his body—god, it’s creepy when you know what to look for. His center of gravity was off and his walk was all wrong.”
Most of the possessions I’d witnessed were by Jennifer Chance—and she was cunning enough to try to mimic her host. Boswell traipsing around like Sarah must’ve been quite a sight.
“So, she took off with his van. Would she ditch it once she realized about the bottles? Or would she endure the pee to get where she was going? And…where was she going, anyway?”
“Her body might know,” Jacob said.
True, the body did seem to have some awareness, judging by its insights to the whole Zach-and-Sarah dynamic it had demonstrated at the donut shop.
“How can we ask it without tipping it off that we’re trying to unite them?
” I wondered. “This is probably the only time you’ll hear me say I’m glad football games drag on like they do.
It’s buying us a lot of breathing room.” We needed to track down Sarah while the body was distracted. “The van is being tracked, right?”
“You closed the case. If you call in for a location—”
Enough was enough. “Okay, Jacob, I know the last thing you wanna do is make yourself look bad in front of Laura.” When you came right down to it, in the don’t-care-what-people-think department, I was more like Sarah’s physical body than her etheric form.
At least, I aspired to be. “Don’t worry about Laura.
I’m the lead, and I’ll take all the heat. I promise.”
Jacob stared at me so hard, I swore he could see into my soul…or my etheric, if that was the particular thing that makes us all ourselves. And after a long moment, he said, “You just want to get a fix on the van.”
“Right. We don’t have to mention the possession. We can get Sarah back into her own body with Laura none the wiser.”
“I trust you,” Jacob said. “You’ll make the right choice.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or horrified. When I put in a call to Records, I found that, yes, a tracking device had been installed while Boswell was signing papers. Apparently, one of those signatures “consented” to it, and Dr. Santiago recommended tracking him for his own safety.
I felt every way it was possible to feel about that.
The van was currently parked at a suburban library.
And as they were friendly with the local municipality, the FPMP could tap into their security feed.
Did I want to see? Of course not—it brought to mind all the appearances I myself had no doubt made on Candid Camera.
But I tamped down my own revulsion and said, “Sure.”
An image of a mundane computer lab popped up on my phone.
The wall was plastered with photocopied signs about how to use the lab—sign in, time slots, helpful dos and don’ts—and dire warnings about not falling for scams. A couple of high schoolers looked to be gaming.
A middle-aged woman was laughing at something on her screen.
And Boswell was in the far corner, pecking furiously at the keyboard as he glared at the monitor.
I doubted he was leaving another crackpot review, if Sarah was still in the driver’s seat.
“Can I see what he’s typing?” I asked Records.
“No can do. Privacy law.”
I only laughed on the inside.
I could get there pretty quick—Sundays were easy to begin with and the roads are particularly dead during an out-of-town game—and maybe I could catch them.
But I’d have to hustle. I hung up with Records and told Jacob, “Whatever you do, don’t let Sarah’s body leave.
” We both looked at the couch. The body threw a handful of microwave popcorn at the TV and swore like a sailor at the referee.
“Watch out for halftime, if she gets bored she might take off.”
“I should be the one to go after Boswell.”
“You literally just said you trusted me.”
Jacob pressed his lips into a thin line, then sighed. “I’ll be sure to hide all the scissors.” Our eyes went immediately to the knife set on the countertop…which Jacob grabbed and shoved out of reach in the highest cabinet shelf.
I was at the library in no time flat, and was more relieved than I ever thought I’d be to see a certain van.
It was parked cockeyed. Because someone was being careless?
Or in a hurry? Or because they didn’t have much experience driving a van of that size…
and possessing a body that didn’t quite fit, too?
I counted myself lucky the library was open on Sundays, otherwise, who knows where Sarah would have taken Boswell? The woman at the counter greeted me with a chipper hello as I walked in, and I caught sight of my own reflection in a study room window—tall and dark-suited with a scowl on my face.
Librarians are made of stern stuff.
“Where are the computers?” I asked her.
“The stations with the red signs are self-check. The blue signs are library catalog only, that’s where you can search the collection or place holds.
If you want internet access, there’s a lab on the second floor.
” I was already heading for the stairs. “But you’ll need a library card to sign in,” she called after me.
“Okay, thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder. Hopefully I wasn’t already too late.
On the second floor, I found myself wading through a kids’ section, mostly a mess of toys, with preschoolers shrieking around a train set while their moms chatted on a nearby couch, oblivious to the volume. I barely avoided skating across the room on a chunky wooden caboose.
Like everything else in the library, the layout was color-coded and labeled.
I made my way through a “teen” room where a bunch of high schoolers hunched in surly silence, thumbing through manga.
And then past a dozen spinner racks of dog-eared magazines.
Finally, I turned the corner into the computer lab (helpfully marked with a massive sign).
And it looked just like it had through the CCTV.
Except now the laughing woman was shaking her head…
and I was able to circumvent the so-called “privacy” and see she was watching cat videos.
I passed her and the gaming teenagers and crept up to Boswell, unsure if it was still Sarah at the helm, or if she’d left him to his own devices.
“What’s up?” I said casually.
Smooth.
Boswell shot me a disdainful look—again, could’ve been either one—and said, “These pictures are like a year old. What is wrong with Zach?”
“Pictures, where? On Facebook?”
Boswell gave me an Okay, Boomer eye-roll that had Sarah written all over it. “Insta.” She moved over a skooch so that I could pull up a chair, even though the helpful library signage read 1 Person Per Station. “See this handbag? I sold it at a consignment shop last fall.”
I glanced at her ex’s profile: @sledgehammer2001.
Ugh. The photo in question showed him and Sarah at a Starbucks, toasting each other with the first pumpkin spice latte of the season.
It was a selfie taken by him, angled so his biceps looked approximately as big around as my thigh.
Sarah was making a duck face. There was an edge of something that might or might not have been a purse in the corner.
The date stamp on the post was last week.
“So he’s acting like you’re still involved. Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s Zach, that’s why.”
“How come you’re—” I almost said stalking “—checking up on his socials?”
Sarah clucked Boswell’s tongue. “Because I need to know where he is.”
“Okay. That makes sense. But your best bet would be to let me handle it if you want to avoid him.”
“Avoid him? Heck, no. I want to deliver a reality check and make it clear him and me are over.”
“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes no for an answer. And…” I looked the body she was currently wearing up and down, “he’ll probably be wondering why a random middle-aged guy is breaking up with him.”
“True. But it’s funny, even though this guy keeps trying to make me drink that nasty soda, he’s willing to help me stand up to Zach. Without him, I’d chicken out and take off again.”
“So, you and Boswell are working together.”
“Well, yeah, that’s literally what I just said.”
I’d prefer to hear that from Boswell himself, but I wasn’t sure it was safe for Sarah’s etheric form to step out of him so far away from the rest of her.
What if the veil opened up and sucked her in, leaving her body without a consciousness to steer it?
She’d probably end up convicted. Or elected to a governmental office.
“How about this?” I suggested. “I help you find Zach, and you can swap into your body to deliver your message in a way he’ll understand.
I’ll be right there to back you up and make sure nothing happens to you.
” Of course, I had no intention of letting Sledge anywhere near her.
But how else could I stop her from taking off?
Sarah considered me. “Why would you do that?”
“Let’s just say he rubs me wrong.”