“Have you seen anything strange around here?”
“That’s the thing. Nobody has seen anything. It’s been business as usual, so I have no idea what’s going on. But I’m only a volunteer. I’m a social-work student at A&M.” Only in the South did people volunteer that much personal information to total strangers.
“Thanks anyways. Do you mind if I just walk around outside? Maybe I’ll see my friend there.”
The blonde looked around, concerned, probably not sure if that was part of the policy. “OK, but please don’t look creepy. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Thanks. I won’t wander long.” For an unpaid volunteer, she was sure worried about getting fired.
I left the blonde, with her Shirley Temple haircut, at the desk and walked the perimeter of the building. The back of Randy Sam’s looked like a combination exercise yard and picnic area. Unfortunately, the chain-link fence around it gave it a prison look. I wasn’t sure whether they were trying to keep the clients in or the nuts out. Either way, it looked pretty intense. I made it to the end of the building, but nobody made eye contact with me. The clients knew people were being kidnapped, and they were not taking any chances.
“Hey, girlie, over here.” Across the street stood a brunette in her late twenties or maybe early thirties. It was hard to say; she looked as if she’d had a rough life.
She waved me over, trying to be discreet. She was standing by a tree, looking more suspicious than anything. I wasn’t sure if I should explain the concept of camouflage to her. What did I have to lose at this point in the day? I was batting zero on my investigation, so I crossed the street.
“Hi there. Can I help you?” What else was I supposed to say? What’s up, shady lady by the tree?
“I heard you. They took my boyfriend, so they probably took your friend, too. This place is haunted. I’m going to find him. He’s all I got. I’m probably next, and so are you for asking questions.” I thought I spoke fast, but this lady beat me. I wasn’t sure when she took a breath, but everything was coming out at once. She started crying out of the blue.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Do you know who took your boyfriend?” I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid I would spook her even more.
“Those biker bitches. They started coming at night, offering food and shelter to anyone who would work for them. A few guys went, but they never came back. After that, nobody wanted to go, and people started going missing. My boyfriend followed them, looking for his friend, and he never came back.” The last sentence was hard to follow because she was crying so hard.
“Did he tell you where he was going?” Maybe she knew something more. I had heard this version before. Don’t ask questions was the theme.
“Not really. He just said to wait for him by the bridge for Mass.” The girl looked over her shoulder and panicked. “I have to go.”
The little blonde was standing by the side of the building looking at us. Great. Now she was going to report me for disturbing the guest.
“Wait, please. Let me give you my number. If you find anything out, please let me know. I want to help.” I scrambled through my pockets to find something to write on. I had a light denim jacket. In the pockets I found a stack of business cards. They were actually mine, which was weird. I glanced quickly at the number and handed one to the girl. She pocketed it and left without a word.
The blonde was still watching me, so I waved. She turned around and probably went back to her desk to report me. I was sure I was getting banned. Oh well, another dead end unless the little girl called me.
I glanced at the stack of business cards in my hand. Black paper with white letters, all in italics that simply said, Isis Black, Reapers Incorporated and my phone number. Three little lines, and I was official. When did that crazy cat have time to make me business cards? I wasn’t sure which one was sneakier, Constantine or Bartholomew.
I decided to head back to Bumblebee. If the tires on that baby got slashed, Constantine would have my hide. I was pretty sure he liked me, but I had a horrible feeling that he loved the car more. I tried to walk quickly back without looking too suspicious. It wasn’t as if I were talking to shady characters by street corners—that wasn’t suspicious at all. The front desk was empty, thank the Lord. I didn’t need Little Blondie to give me any more stares. I was feeling guilty already.
I pulled Bumblebee out of the parking lot and headed toward the library. I wasn’t planning to leave the car, in case any more drive-by slashers came my way. There was something off about Randy Sam’s, and I just wanted to watch. Of course, it wasn’t as if I were blending in, in a yellow Camaro.
I parked near the front of the library, close enough to see the shelter.
After an hour of watching, I was bored to death. I changed Constantine’s Sirius channels at least ten times. I played with every button in the car that I could find. My stomach grumbled. My supershake had worn off, and I was actually hungry. I blamed Constantine’s horrible exercise routine. I was not used to all this work.
My phone rang, and I almost jumped out of my skin. Nobody ever called me besides my godmother, but that was only on Sundays. I fumbled in my pockets, looking for the infernal device.
“Hello.” The caller ID read
