“Sounds like a plan,” I said, taking the phone and looking at the address. “This is across town! It will take me hours to get there!”
“Oh, right.” Lauren reached into the pocket of her overcoat then dangled a set of keys in front of my face. “You got a fast car.”
“And you want a ticket to anywhere?”
“What?”
“It’s a song,” I started to explain, but the look on the younger girl’s face stopped me. There was a solid decade between Lauren’s generation and mine. “Never mind. Bad joke. Did you steal a car?”
“No, it’s mine,” she clarified, “which means BRS won’t bat an eye if anyone sees it driving around town. Plus the windows are tinted. No one will know it’s you.”
The harsh overhead lights refracted off of the shiny logo pressed into the key fob. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”
“You’re welcome,” said Lauren. “Just one thing.” She eyed Franklin. “No dogs.”
“Are you kidding?”
“It has a leather interior.”
“I can’t just drop Franklin off at a daycare, Lauren. He’s not a two-year-old.”
Lauren sighed and held out her open palm. “Give him to me.”
“No way.”
“One of the girls on my rowing team is really good with dogs,” she said, snatching Franklin’s leash out of my hand. “She won’t mind watching Franklin. I’ll drop him off. He’ll be in good hands, I promise.”
I knelt down on Franklin’s level and kneaded his plump cheeks between my hands. “I’ll see you later, buddy.”
“All right, enough sappy goodbyes,” interrupted Lauren. “You’ll see him soon enough. Let’s get going. Twelve hours, remember?”
I stood, swinging the car keys around one finger, and checked my watch again. “Eleven and a half.”
We took the stairs down to the lowest level of the parking garage, where Lauren had left her vehicle. I should’ve known what to have expected when borrowing Lauren Lockwood’s car. It only made sense that the daughter of the most influential businessman in town would drive a polished, black sedan with some kind of impossible-to-pronounce Italian brand name stamped on the grill and the steering wheel.
“Christ, I don’t even want to know how much this hunk of metal cost,” I said, walking around to the driver’s side and peeking inside.
“To be honest, I don’t even know,” said Lauren. “It was a gift.”
I clicked the key fob gingerly, and the behemoth responded with two earsplitting beeps, just in case anyone within a fifty-block radius wasn’t aware of its presence already. I lowered myself inside, the fabric of my jeans sliding effortlessly across the leather seat, and turned the key in the ignition. The car barely made a sound as it fired up, only emitting a soft purr under the hood. The dashboard was littered with various buttons and dials, but the one of most interest to me controlled the heater in the seat. I clicked it on and immediately felt my butt warm up.
“So this is how the other half drives?”
“Appreciate it while you can, Costello,” quipped Lauren. “You can’t keep it.”
“Damn.”
I pulled the door closed, sparing one last glance at Franklin. He sat obediently beside Lauren but peered up at her with unsure eyes. As Lauren waved, I guided the car out of the lowest level of the parking lot and onto the road, my new burner phone barking out directions to the storage unit.
12
Lauren’s swanky vehicle made quick work of the drive out to the industrial side of town. What was once a thriving business area had faded into a dim, sleepy ghost district. I drove past abandoned warehouses, toppling smokestacks, and collections of rusted cargo containers piled up to worrisome heights. For the Black Raptor Society, it was a perfect place to dispose of whatever needed disposing. It was miles and miles of forgotten waste, and no one, not even the scrupulous cops on the force, would have the time to comb through all of it in the hopes of unearthing a body. Or a kidnapped boyfriend.
Thankfully, it was easy to spot the self-storage facility that Lauren’s father owned. As I rolled through the littered streets, I spotted a long, low building with Lockwood Inc. stamped in bold, black letters on its side. I pulled over before I reached it, not wanting to park Lauren’s car in view of the cameras that she had mentioned. My heart sank as I peered out of the windshield for a better look. I could only see one side of the storage facility, but it looked massive. It was all outside, each of the units accessible by a roll-up door. If the Black Raptor Society had hidden O’Connor’s body or was keeping Wes hostage out here, it would take me more than a quick minute to locate either one. In any case, it wouldn’t hurt to have a look around, so I reluctantly left the toasty interior of Lauren’s car and approached the first block of units.
I spotted a pair of cameras perched on either side of the unit row. I tugged my hood up, obscuring my face, and kept my head ducked, just in case Lauren hadn’t managed to rig the footage in time. My heart thrummed in my chest as I continued down the row. The facility was run-down and eerily deserted. A few units were open, revealing empty insides or heaps of neglected junk, as though whoever had rented out the space hadn’t had the time to gather their things again before evacuating. The other units were locked tight, and without a crowbar handy, I had no way of prying them open. Paint peeled from the walls and the roll-up doors, and there was a distinct scent of rust and mildew in the air. I wrinkled my nose and turned down the next row of units.
The
