Page 57 of Don't Let Go

Had problems with employees taking food? Maybe the boss was just big on the overkill. I could appreciate it. Even better, one of their cameras pointed out onto Main Street. It gave me a better view of the sleepy little town.

Foot traffic appeared heavy, and there were four men meeting just outside what was the mayor’s office. What I wouldn’t give for some zoom and enhance. The fact they had cameras at all was amazing.

Beggars could not be choosers. The pixelization made identifying the men tricky, but I screen captured as much of them as I could, then brought up a program to try and clean it up. It could extrapolate data based on what features were clear.

Not perfect, but I had a photo of the mayor online as well as the other town personnel. It would take some time to see if any of these guys were him. The more information I could gather before the guys got there, the better.

Once I had the cafe camera feeds locked down, I took a good look at their town hall building. It seemed distinctly odd that they didn’t have any cameras for me to hijack. Stranger still that there was better security and overwatch on the cafe than the mayor or sheriff’s office.

What about their local jail? Wouldn’t they need something there? I was still puzzling over that when my comm beeped and I clicked in to connect with the guys.

“Talk to me…”

Chapter

Twenty

LOCKE

Juniper, Texas was hot, dusty, and almost a cliche in how small it was. As advertised, there were a handful of buildings lining the dusty main street. The street itself boasted cracks and potholes that you’d think they could fix easily enough—it was only one road.

Apparently not, though. Most of the buildings were a max of two stories. Made sense, they didn’t need more space. The largest building was the school…

The fence around it had plenty of holes and tears. The playground equipment was sad and faded. It was also completely empty of children. I checked my watch as I studied the school from between the general store and the local laundry that was also a bait shop, and boasted a Notary Public on staff.

A bait shop meant they had to have fishing somewhere. But I hadn’t seen any water on the way in. Maybe it was somewhere else. What I had seen was dust. More dust. Some rocks. Dust. The occasional hay field. And dust.

McQuade bumped my shoulder as he passed me and I fell into step behind him with Remy following me. We’d snagged attention when we’d pulled in at the diner. Leaving the car therehad been a choice. There were also cameras set up on the front and back. Patch would keep an eye out on us and the car.

Bells hanging on the door rattled and rang in the most discordant fashion. It was definitely not the right note. Kind of like the town itself. The whole place rubbed me the wrong way.

We split up. I was sliding listening devices into place as I checked out the merchandise. One under a shelf here. Another on the edge of a display there. Places where we could maximize the coverage.

McQuade headed back toward the freezers and Remy kind of drifted along in my wake. Like McQuade and me, Remy wore jeans, a t-shirt, and boots with a baseball cap over his shiny bald head. Keeping silent had been my suggestion.

We were already going to stand out, strangers in a strange land and all that. His accent would be a great big red flag waved at a bull. No, we’d keep that in our back pockets thank you very much.

The man at the register stared at me as I wandered about. I looked at everything but didn’t pick up any one item. Instead of reacting to the hard gaze of the clerk, I focused on getting my devices into place.

The store was a lot bigger inside than I expected. There was also a counter for a pharmacist, but the sign hanging there said Closed, and to find Earl at the Vet’s office if it was an emergency.

I could barely suppress the shudder that wanted to crawl through me. People in small towns wore lots of hats, but I was pretty sure this might be my definition of hell. Give me my big cities with their noisy streets, pollution, street vendors, hawkers, and street performers working their hustle between buildings that blocked out the sun.

Anonymity was like candy and I craved it. Fading into the woodwork was a fuckload harder in a place where everyone knew your name, your business, and probably your secrets.

No. Fucking. Thank you.

“Can I help you find something?” The barest hint of a Texas drawl feathered over the words.

Dressed in the brownest uniform I’d ever seen—brown trousers, brown shirt, brown jacket, brown cowboy hat, and for fuck’s sake, a brown tie—the deputy eyed me with a kind of suspicious friendliness. That was a challenging combo. I wanted to give him two points for the effort.

“No, thanks,” I said, adopting a bare hint of the same drawl he’d used. When manufacturing an accent, it was always better to not lay it on too thick. Besides, Texas was huge. I could be from just about anywhere. “Just trying to make a list in my head. Forgot to make one before we left.”

The click at the end of my statement was a little tsk. The first time I’d heard it, Patch had been scolding me for moving too fast. She just did this little click with her tongue at the end of the scold.

I kind of liked it.

Fit this character I was playing.

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