Chapter 25 Diem #2
He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Don’t go in right away.
Park on the street or something. Call and tell them you’re Lukyan.
You were just there and had problems with your key.
Tell them you’re worried your unit isn’t properly locked and ask them to send someone to double-check.
You’d do it yourself, but you’re heading out of town and can’t turn around.
Be your usual charming and surly self. Complain about all the money you pay them and suggest you will change facilities if they make you go back to do it yourself. ”
“Tallus—”
“Hear me out, Guns. Then, I want you to—Fuck shit damn! Get down, get down,” he shouted, and I suspected the demand wasn’t for me. I also suspected Tallus’s tailing skills needed work.
“Jesus fucking Christ. What are you—”
“Hang on, Guns. I have a situation.”
I fisted the steering wheel as I bit back a caustic reply. The parking lot had emptied out. The other AA members had disbursed. I had the urge to drive but didn’t know what direction to take, so I fucking waited—not patiently—for my boyfriend to sort out whatever shit was going on.
“You could have warned me,” Tallus snarked. Again, I didn’t think he was talking to me.
“Is it safe?” Darcy asked.
“Yes. D, are you still there?”
“What is happening?”
“Nothing. We’re fine. Where was I? Oh, right. So, make the call, then wait until whoever is working at the office comes out. They should be going to check Lukyan’s unit. Then, pull in and wave the guy down before he goes too far. This is where those fabulous acting skills will come in handy.”
“I’m not a fucking actor, and you know it.”
“Have I taught you nothing?”
“Have I taught you nothing about surveillance and following people?”
“Touché. We can chat about my listening skills later. Put it in my employee evaluation if you must. The guy—”
“What guy?”
“At the U-Stor. He’ll probably tell you he’ll be back in a second because he has to check something. Don’t let him walk away. Chat him up.”
I snorted and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Chat him up. Right.”
“I believe in you.” Tallus continued like he wasn’t making the most ridiculous suggestion known to mankind. “Tell him you need to view unit sizes to see if they are accommodating to your needs because you’re considering renting one.
“When he tries to make you wait—and he will—tell him you’re in a hurry. He will probably be frustrated.”
“I’m frustrated.”
“Shh. He will probably be frustrated and might try to blow you off—”
Darcy snorted.
Tallus told him to shut up.
“But insist you don’t have time. Be snarly. You’re good at that. If he tries to walk away. Follow him. The goal is to see which unit is Lukyan’s. Take note of camera placements. Rent a goddamn locker if you have to, so we have a reason to be on the premises. Are you taking notes?”
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Ten thirty-two. It wasn’t even noon, and all the positive energy I’d made at the gym and all the inspiration I’d gathered at the meeting had gone down the drain. At this rate, I’d be calling Aslan before he made it home.
“D?”
Softer and with as much control as I could inject into my tone, I asked, “What are you doing, Tallus? What is your end game in following him?”
“It’s just recon.”
“You’re putting Darcy in danger.”
“Nah, he’s fine. I haven’t even felt the urge to kill him in fifteen minutes.”
“It’s true,” Darcy yelled in the background. “We’re getting along now.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Tallus said.
I straightened in the seat and turned the key, starting the engine. “I’ve made a new business decision.”
“Oh?”
“We should never work cases together again.”
A long beat of silence was followed by a, “Why? We make a great team.”
“In theory, but have you ever noticed how every case we work together tends to fall off the rails? Do you know why?” I didn’t wait for an answer.
“Because you always grab the steering wheel from my hands and jerk us into oncoming traffic. I’m not good with the unpredictable, Tallus.
I don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing anymore, and this was my case. ”
“Do you trust me?”
I glanced longingly at the empty cigarette pack and sighed. “You know I do.”
“Recon, Guns. We’re safe. Go find out what locker Lukyan rents.”
“Why?”
“Because a man who is running a sketchy business isn’t going to keep important documents at home. Plus, he owns four luxury cars and has to store them somewhere. Call it a hunch. We don’t ignore hunches in this business. You taught me that.”
Tallus had always proven to be strongly independent, wildly inventive, and utterly fearless.
He didn’t shy away from a challenge and embraced every aspect of investigative work, no matter what it entailed—sometimes to his detriment.
We’d been dating for the better part of a year and a half, and I hadn’t once found the willpower to throw him off a case.
He had an intuition my stubborn brain often rejected.
So, like always, I submitted to whatever unconventional plan he had up his sleeve. “All right. I’m going. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“I love you, Guns.”
“I love you more.”
Before he disconnected, I heard Darcy in the background. “Gross.”
***
The U-Stor was easy enough to find, particularly with the black cloud of smoke billowing from within the gated compound. Several fire engines and police cars were on the premises, the former battling a roaring blaze, the latter controlling passersby who stopped to gape.
Cars lined the street, looky-loos all gawking at the unfortunate disaster. A man in a U-Stor polo stood by the office building, chatting with a constable. The poor kid looked no older than Darcy and seemed distraught.
I pulled into a convenience store across the street and called Tallus.
“We’re almost in Brampton. Did you get a unit number? That was fast.”
“The place is on fire.”
“What? No it isn’t. I was just there.”
“Hang on.” I lowered the window, snapped a picture, and attached it to our chat box. “Incoming.”
“Holy shit. What unit?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Go ask. Pretend you’re a customer. Demand answers.”
“Tallus, the place is crawling with cops and firefighters. They aren’t going to let me near the place.”
“I bet a hundred bucks Lukyan set the fire. Go. Do it, Guns. I believe in you.”
“Why would he set a fire?”
“Because he lost Darcy last night and he’s terrified the kid is going to rat him out to the police.”
“I’m not a kid,” Darcy groused in the background.
“Diem, go get answers. Do I have to write you a script again?”
“No. Fuck me. I’ll call you back.”
I disconnected and got out of the vehicle. The cloying scent of smoke filled the air. I debated heading into the store first to grab cigarettes, but remembered my conversation with Aslan.
Although, cigarettes weren’t alcohol. I didn’t have to quit both. My therapist told me not to quit both at once.
I hedged, undecided, then cursed and crossed to the storage facility instead. Maybe that was the problem. I was trying to do too much at once. It didn’t seem to matter how many people told me I was setting myself up for failure. I was stuck in this stupid all-or-nothing mentality.
Fifty yards or so from the main gate, I stalled. Assessing the scene, I tipped my fedora forward, shadowing my face as I contemplated my approach. For once, maybe an irritable attitude would work in my favor. Be a surly customer, Tallus had said. Fine. I could do that.
I might not be an actor, but I was skilled at playing an angry brute, so I marched through the gate to the main office, where the cop and the U-Stor employee were in conversation. Thankfully, the constable wasn’t anyone I knew.
When I was within shouting distance, I yelled, “What unit?”
The pair stopped and turned. The cop held up a hand, warding me off. “You can’t come in here right now, sir.”
“I pay money to rent storage space, and I have a fucking right to know if my shit’s on fire. What unit?” I asked the terrified man in the U-Stor polo.
The cop approached—looking prepared to escort me off the property—but I held my ground and continued to glare at the employee.
I chose a name and number at random and barked, “Was it Knightly? Eighty-six?”
The guy shook his head. “I… I don’t know. I saw smoke and called it in. Fourth row from the west fence.”
“Find me a number, or I’m going to march over there and find out for myself.”
But the guy didn’t have time to respond.
The cop grabbed my arm and steered me toward the street, his tone light and placating.
“Sir, this isn’t the time. I realize you’re upset, and I’m sure things will get sorted out soon, but this guy doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for.
It would be best to address your concerns with management on Monday.
Let us do our job. The fire is contained to one unit, so chances are, your things are fine. ”
One unit.
I didn’t fight or yank my arm from his grasp—even though I wanted to. The employee likely wouldn’t have had a clue who rented the unit anyhow, not without looking it up. Even if he did, he wouldn’t share it with some Joe Stranger off the street.
After delivering me to the curb, the cop retreated, returning to his conversation with the employee. Since I had marked myself as an angry customer, I marched the perimeter of the fence to see what I could see as I called Tallus.
The phone rang until voicemail picked up.
I tried again.
He still didn’t answer, and something in the pit of my stomach clenched.
What now?