Chapter 37 #2
It wasn’t until I was halfway to the Quarry that I finally felt like I could breathe a little, but then my mind rounded back to the fact that I would be leaving indefinitely in less than twenty-four hours.
The lack of food in my system was making me shaky and sick to my stomach so I headed into the Walgreens to grab a snack.
Might as well spend the fifty dollars Adrian had padded my wallet with for this excursion.
I roamed the aisles for longer than necessary, my mind still refusing to fixate on anything other than the fact that this was my last evening of freedom, and I didn’t want to spend it debriefing with Carlos.
Didn’t want to have to accept what was going to be my new reality.
A part of me had been holding out hope that I was somehow going to get out of this.
That he didn’t actually think I would be useful in this mission and would assign me to do something else.
But, fuck. Between Carlos’s threat to force another in my place, and Adrian’s threat to hurt my friends, I had no fucking choice.
Finally settling on a bottle of water and a bag of Chex Mix, I headed to get in line.
“Shit,” I mumbled, looking down at my coffee-soaked front, the spilled drink at the feet of me, and then the stranger who I’d collided with.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry!” The woman rushed to pick up her still leaking drink on the floor and gave me a once over, cringing at the sight of my ruined dress and jean jacket.
I took a moment to do the same, taking in her casual jeans, Baylor University sweatshirt and sneakers.
She seemed to be in her late twenties, and I marveled at her pin straight, sleek black hair that was pulled into a high ponytail.
“Frick,” she muttered, rifling through her handbag. “I don’t even have any tissues or anything. Oh my God. This is just so embarrassing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I shrugged, stepping away from her to just leave the situation. Great, now I have to walk all the way to the Quarry soaking wet and smelling like caramel coffee.
“Wait, please,” she rushed out, gripping my arm. “I hope you weren’t heading somewhere in a rush. I can drive us to the mall around the corner and pay for you to get something new.”
“That’s really not necessary. It was just an accident.”
She pouted her lips and gave me a pleading look. “Please. I’ll overthink this interaction for the rest of my life. I promise it won’t be any more of an inconvenience than this.” She motioned to the spilled coffee, and I sighed heavily.
“Let’s just call it even with five bucks for a load at the laundromat.”
She didn’t seem happy with the idea, and I caught the crinkle of her nose.
“Sorry, I just…I’d really like to get you something dry at least. There’s a thrift store next door you can pop into and find something at?”
I stared at her, annoyed that she wasn’t just willing to drop it.
She pouted. “Please. I’m a serial overthinker. It’ll make me feel so much better if I can know that you’re walking away with something clean and dry to wear.”
I sighed, closing my eyes to gain some composure.
“Fine, sure. If it’ll make you feel better.”
“Okay,” she smiled with relief. “Um, did you need to pay for that still?” she asked, eyeing the goods in my arms.
“Yeah.”
It was awkward silence for all of two seconds before she started yapping in my ear in line.
“So, where were you headed?”
“Home.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you were dressed up for an event.”
I shook my head, and she didn’t seem to get the social cue that she should just shut up. Couldn’t she have just paid for my snack or given me a five for the trouble?
“You having a good Sunday? Mine’s been pretty wild, running around all over the city for work today.
Gosh, I wish I could have weekends off like the rest of the nine to five population.
Can we even call it that anymore? It’s more like eight to six these days.
Or in my case, all hours of the day and night. ”
I nodded telling myself not to roll my eyes because I was trying to act civilized. Thankfully it was my turn in line, and I finished paying before she was leading us out to her car.
“We can just walk. It’s literally three stores down.”
“That’s okay, I’d rather park right out front. Come on.”
I looked her over again, trying to pinpoint any warning bells I was missing, before relenting and slipping into her Toyota Camry. It was messy, littered with drive-thru coffee cups, crushed energy drinks and receipts with gum stuck between them.
She smiled at me before starting up her car.
She motioned for me to buckle my seatbelt, and I closed my eyes to roll them.
It was extremely unnecessary when we were going to drive twenty feet.
She pulled out of her parking spot with ease, crawling through the row of cars looking around the lot presumably for a closer parking spot to the thrift store, but when she drove straight past it my heart leapt into my throat.
Fuck I don’t even know this girl’s name.
“Hey. You passed the thrift store.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could feel the hysteria lodged in my throat.
“I know.” She said simply, not bothering to look at me as she swiftly pulled into the traffic on the main road, away from the shopping area. Away from the Quarry. Away from stop lights and people. And directly onto the interstate.
“What the fuck are you doing? Pull over.”
God, I sounded so pathetic. She ignored me.
“Pull this fucking car over right now,” I shrieked, searching the inside of the car for a weapon. We were going way too fucking fast now for me to just open my door and jump out. Not without risking serious injury.
My heart pounded, sweat mixing with the sticky syrupy coffee that I was drenched in. I’d pull her ponytail, maybe try and choke her and get her to let up on the gas pedal.
“Relax, Shiloh.”
I jumped back in my seat, my hand frozen midair between our bodies.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
She licked her lips and shook her head. “Relax, Shiloh. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Clarissa Nguyen. FBI, Criminal Investigation Division. Organized Crime Unit.”
I blinked. And blinked again.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I finally muttered, letting my hand finally fall back to my lap.
She laughed, sending me an amused glance. “No. I’m not shitting you, Shiloh. I’ve been following you for weeks now.”
“Seriously? You really expect me to believe you right now?”
“Open the glove box.”
Intrigued, but keeping an eye on her, I flipped the glove box open. There was a badge inside and I grabbed it, keeping her in line of sight as I opened it and read the inside.
“How the fuck do I know this isn’t fake? This doesn’t really prove anything.”
We were pulling off the highway now into a suburban neighborhood with modern looking homes currently decked with varying degrees of Christmas paraphernalia.
“You’re right, it could be fake. Or it could be real, and I could be telling you the truth.”
Or you could be some elaborate test from Carlos?
She stopped in the driveway of one of the houses, parked the car and removed the keys. I debated taking my chances and running.
“Just come inside for a minute. I promise the doors aren’t going to be locked and you can leave whenever you choose.”
I squinted my eyes at her. “Promises mean nothing coming from your mouth.”
She nodded, opening her car door, and left me dumbstruck at her absence.
Clarissa didn’t bother trying to coerce me any further, and I watched her walk to the front door and step inside.
I looked through the glove box and console for any signs of a weapon.
It was stupid of me to enter the house without one, but my curiosity was getting the better of my judgment.
With Adrian’s confession last week, it didn’t seem like a coincidence that an FBI agent had been stalking me and wanted to talk. What if she told Adrian I wasn’t cooperating and he hurt my friends? With a growl of frustration, I flung the car door open and headed inside.
The house was modestly decorated outside, with just Christmas lights and a wreath on the door.
But inside, the lack of Christmas was stark.
No tree, no garland. As I glanced around, there wasn’t any decor in the house at all.
A simple sofa and coffee table filled the space of the living room. No TV, no pictures, not even a lamp.
I closed the door behind me, despite myself, and called out for the stranger.
“In here.” Her voice carried from deeper into the house, down a hallway to the left, and I flicked the hall light on as I passed it.
I found her in a bedroom, just as bare bones as the living room. Only a double bed. No dresser. She stood in front of the closet, sliding hangars haphazardly across the rack, until her fingers stilled.
“Here,” she said softly, probably to herself.
She spun around with a soft smile. “Sorry, I didn’t plan on dousing you with my coffee. I hope this fits.”
I studied the pencil skirt and blouse she was holding out to me. “You don’t have something a little more casual.”
“Oh,” she glanced down at the clothes in her hand before dropping them onto the bed. “Pajamas?”
I shrugged and she scooped a duffle bag from beneath the bed, tossing it onto the comforter before picking out a pair of sweats and a hoodie.
“Thanks,” I muttered, retrieving the clothes. She motioned for me to change in the adjoining bathroom.
I locked the door, not that it would really protect me, and quickly changed into the clothes that smelled like laundry detergent. At least they were clean. When I opened the door, Clarissa was leaning against the wall opposite me.
“So, should we sit? Or are you going to leave now that you’ve got what you needed?”
I hoped my mask of indifference was impenetrable to her stare down. “I’m listening.” I crossed my arms, mirroring her stance by leaning against the door frame of the bathroom.