Page 79 of High Frequency

My mind is spinning with possibilities. If I wanted to, I could probably cross the river at the shallow part by the sandbar, or ride the shoulder of the highway to the other side of the bridge, and get up the mountain to check the progress at the site. Maybe even check out that cabin Wolff found.

“Yeah, for sure. By the way, use my place as long as you want. The guys brought over an extra generator and some floodlights, so I’ll probably be working late anyway. I want to get as much done as I can.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I think I’ll join Mom for dinner and spend a little time with Aspen before her bedtime, but I may want to do some more work after she goes down.”

“The place is yours. I may catch you later.”

Then he ends the call.

He may not have meant that last comment to come across as a veiled promise, but the goosebumps on my skin certainly suggest I understood it as one.

Before the man completely scrambles my brain, I tap my trackpad to wake up my laptop, and try to redirect my focus on the video.

Twenty-Three

Dan

The lights are on inside my cabin when I pull up a little after nine thirty.

I like the thought of her in my space, even when I’m not there.

When I walk in, I don’t see her at first, but when I close the door, she shoots up on the couch.

“Oh God, what time is it?”

“Twenty to ten.”

She blows out a big breath. “Thank goodness.”

“Did you get any work done?” I ask.

I kick off my boots and remove my socks, heading straight for the closet with the stackable washer and dryer.

“I did, but it’s mind-numbingly boring to scan hours of security video. Especially when you have the same hours from three different camera angles. I’m only halfway through the second… What are you doing?”

I look over as I’m shoving my jeans and boxers down my legs.

“Taking off my dirty clothes,” I point out the obvious. “You’ve seen me naked.”

I stuff all my things in the washer and toss in some laundry soap before closing the door. Then I walk over and brace my hands on the back of the couch, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. I notice her attention is fixed on a certain part of my anatomy which always seems to be on alert when Sloane is around.

“Hold that thought,” I whisper next to her ear. “I’m grabbing a quick shower.”

Tossing my sweatpants and shirt on the vanity, I almost slip on my shampoo bottle when I step into the tub. I’m not sure how it ended up there, but I’m more concerned about getting myself clean in the least amount of time than worry about that. My very short shower is mostly cold, since I don’t want to wait around for it to heat up. I’m in a hurry to get back to Sloane before she disappears on me.

She’s still on my couch, and her enthusiastic, “Guess what?” greets me.

“I give up. What?” I return, heading for the fridge where I grab a couple of beers.

“I found her. Chelsea,” she clarifies when I hand her a bottle and sit down next to her.

She turns the screen toward me and points. The video is frozen on a still shot of a gas station.

“There,” she prompts.

I have to lean in to make out the shape of a girl with long hair just coming into frame, behind one of the pumps, only half in view.

“How can you tell that’s her?”

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