Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

“Mmmm,” he said.

“So where’s this place?”

“Not too far. It’s like, still within the city, but it’s kind of isolated? A whaddaya-call-it, an industrial park but the place went out of business. You can drive around back. And it’s right next to these woods, so it’s pretty private.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be good. I wish we could go to, like, an actual place. But my mom’s home all the time, and if we went to a motel or something then you have to use a credit card and all that. That’s why I used cash for the clothes. My mom looks at all my statements that come in the mail and I don’t want her asking a whole bunch of questions.”

“Okay,” Sandy said. “And my place is no good because my landlord’s always snooping around, watching my every move.” She glanced again into the back seat, where she’d tossed the takeout tray. “So, it’s gonna be here ?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You couldn’t have tidied?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I can clear off the seat when we get there. And I brought a blanket, in the back.”

Sandy looked skeptical, maybe even a little repulsed. “I guess,” she said. “Sorry if I got your motor running yesterday when I, you know, suggested this. Sorry yesterday didn’t work out.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I guess... I guess I was thinking you’d changed your mind.”

“No,” she said quickly. “Nothing like that.” She paused, then asked, “Did you get the things?”

He smiled, patted his pocket. “Sure did.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were driving through an area of factories and warehouses. Travis turned the van into the lot of a building covered in pale blue metal siding, the windows all boarded over. A chain-link gate blocked the path to the rear of the structure. Travis stopped the van a foot ahead of the gate.

“Not to worry,” he said, getting out of the van and leaving the door open as he went to the gate, unlooped some chain, and pushed it open. He got in behind the wheel and said, “Lock’s been gone for ages.”

Once he had pulled past it, he jumped out again, swung the gate back to its original position, and got behind the wheel.

He pointed ahead through the windshield. “Just back around here.”

The location was as he had described it. The lot was deserted save for a couple of rusted shipping containers and general debris, and was bordered on two sides by a wooded area. There were no other homes or buildings within view.

“See?” he said. “Private.”

He got out of the van, went around to the back, opened the tailgate, and grabbed a folded pink blanket he’d tucked away there. He slid both side doors back on their tracks, cleared off everything that had been on the seat, then spread the blanket onto it. All this time, Sandy stayed in the passenger seat.

Travis went to her door, opened it, and extended his arm gracefully, a regular hotel concierge showing her to her room.

Sandy got out slowly, first putting her feet on the cracked pavement, taking half a step, and then getting into the middle seat. She shuffled over, leaving room for Travis to settle in next to her. They turned to face each other, and then Travis slipped his arms around her and planted his lips on hers.

He eased his fingers under her top, just above the waist, feeling bare skin. Slowly, he started to move his hands upward.

Suddenly, Sandy pushed him away.

“What?” he said. “What is it?”

“I can’t do this,” she said.

“What do you mean? I thought—”

“I’m not... I’m not ready.”

“What did I do?” Travis asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t,” she said, breaking away from him and sliding a few inches away, closer to the open door on the other side of the van. “I need — I need some space. I need to think about this. I mean, I like you, I do, but—”

“Okay, okay,” Travis said. “Whatever you need.”

She swung her legs out the door and slid out until her feet touched the pavement. She started walking.

“Where are you going?” he said, scooting across the seat and getting out, dragging the pink blanket along with him.

Sandy kept on walking, her back to him. Without turning, she said, “I need a minute, okay?”

He watched her until she turned the corner of the building. He ran ahead, saw her headed for the gate.

“Shit,” he said to himself. “What did I do?”

“And there it is,” Rhys said. “Our opportunity.”

They had tracked Travis’s van down to an abandoned warehouse in an industrial district. The entire area had fallen on hard times, as there were other abandoned businesses on either side of the warehouse. Kendra steered their rental into one of those lots. They got out and worked their way along a fence dividing one property from the other, and found a hiding spot behind a stack of empty wood cable reels that afforded them a partial view of the van.

“She’s getting out,” Rhys whispered. “They’ve had an argument or something.”

They held their position as the girl walked speedily along the side of the building, passing within a few feet of them as she headed toward the gate. She unhooked the chain, opened the gate a couple of feet, and slipped out without bothering to reclose it.

Rhys tapped Kendra on the shoulder, pointed to a gap in the fence, and motioned for her to follow. They pried back the chain-link, squeezed through without getting their clothes caught, and walked quietly toward the back of the building.

When they rounded the corner, they found Travis sitting dejectedly on the side-door rocker panel. When he saw them walking his way, his eyes went wide as he leapt to his feet.

“Hold it right there,” Kendra said.

They each flashed their bogus badge as they closed the distance. Travis looked ready to wet his pants.

“I’m not doing anything!” he said.

“This is private property,” Rhys said, drawing his weapon. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Nothing!” he said, seeing the gun and throwing his hands into the air. “Honest to God. I drove back here with my girlfriend and we kind of had a fight or something and she walked off and I only drove back here because it’s private and I’m not stealing anything.” He lowered one hand, waved it. “What would I take? There’s nothing here!”

Rhys and Kendra had discussed earlier that in a spot like this, in back of a deserted warehouse, they might be able to get away with slightly less caution. They could shoot him, then go back to the rental for the body bag and other supplies. So what if some blood spilled onto the pavement? No one was ever going to know it happened here. They’d be taking the van elsewhere to burn it, along with the body. Or, if that didn’t work out, taking it to a wrecking yard and having it crushed.

Still, Rhys was thinking, it might be better for the execution to happen around back of those cargo containers.

“What’s your name?” he asked, even though he knew.

“Travis!” he said, his voice squeaking. “Travis Roben.”

“You been in trouble with the law before?” Kendra asked, glancing at Rhys, the corner of her mouth going up a fraction of inch, giving him a look that said I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am.

“Never!” he said.

“I need you to step over here,” he said, and motioned for Travis to walk toward the containers.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Can I put my hands down?”

“I never asked you to put them up,” Rhys said. “But... no.”

When they reached the rusted containers — two of them, one labeled MAERSK was stacked on another marked EVERGREEN — Rhys gave Travis a little shove, pushing him around to the other side.