Page 19 of Freedom
“Though probably it was the goddamned rats that were pushing stuff around,” Bushy Beard said. “Least that’s settled. I thought she was gonna smack that kid for saying—”
The third guy slammed his glass onto the table. “You shut up too, Nick. That kid’s been through enough. Fuck, Margie’s been through enough. Drink your fucking Irish coffee and shut the hell up.”
Jake wasn’t completely sure when he’d grabbed Toby’s hand. Maybe when the younger guy had mentioned shooting the mystery spouse in the head. Maybe when the third had slammed his glass into the wood. He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care, because Toby’s pulse was beating like a busted muffler against his fingers, and his wasn’t much better because he wanted to shove his fist into somebody’s face, ask them why the hell they were talking about shit like this in the middle of the day, half drunk and so stupid because couldn’t they see?
And the rest of him, from his gut to a dozen years of experience, knew what this was.
They were outside, six feet from the Eldorado before Jake found the balls to say it. “It’s a ghost,” he said. “I mean, all signs point to that, and... well, it’s a hunt.” He couldn’t look at Toby, not when the drive to go out now, chase down those civvies and pump them for the info he needed to salt and burn this sucker, was locked in combat with the need to not scare Toby, to not throw away what they had been carefully growing together over one stupid spirit.
Toby nodded.
“Toby.” Jake swallowed. “I have to—”
“I c-can help with the r-research,” Toby said, without looking at him. “I’m—I was good at that. Unless you’re already s-sure that it’s the husband? Or at least, the m-man who was hitting them...”
Jake stared. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that Toby could be so calm. This washuntingthey were talking about, with death and blood and monsters, and putting that in the same thought as Toby made him uncomfortable, in spite of how many stories he’d told over the years about what he and D—what he’d done his entire life, though not since he got Toby out of FREACS. But in the face of possible supernatural death and risk, Tobywascalm.
For so long, he’d fought down the urge, clamped it down, strangled it because Toby couldn’t deal with it when he was fresh out of FREACS. And Jake would have done so much more than that for Toby. He had in fact tried to channel that energy into things Toby could work with. But now the adrenaline broke through, filling him with the familiar electricity of anticipation, and that buzz in his body brought a natural, fierce grin to his face.
“Research is a good idea,” he agreed. “We should at least figure out where this sheet-wearing, ham-fisted bastard got buried.”
~*~
The Oak Acres Librarywas smaller than most of the libraries Jake had taken him to but still smelled comfortingly of paper, dust, and plastic shelving. It had five well-worn computers along one wall, a three-couch sitting area, two tables surrounded by folding chairs, and dozens of six-foot shelving units, all of which were visible from the desk and reception at the main door.
Jake looked over everything with the air of a man putting together a battle plan. Tobias caught the quick glance he shot his way. It wasn’t the kind of look he had gotten from guards when they weren’t sure why the monster was allowed in the library or from the Director when he was assessing a monster’s advantages and weaknesses. While Tobias was grateful that Jake’s glance wasn’t either of those—and honestly, he hadn’t expected one of those—his stomach still clenched.
He was sure that some of the times that he’d researched had been for real hunts, with real time limits and risks. Probably even some of the ones where the Director had given him a time limit and beaten him because his progress had been too slow. But this was the first time he had heard the story, the first time he could possibly help and see how it worked in the real world. He wanted to do good, to show Jake that he could be useful, but even more than that, he wanted to actuallybeuseful.
“Hey.” Tobias turned to look directly at Jake, waiting. Jake wasn’t the Director, and this wasn’t a test, but he was ready to do anything Jake needed, and he wanted to. Because he had seen the look in Jake’s eyes, an excitement that he usually only got when telling Tobias about lives saved, BAMFs burned, and Tobias wanted to see it again.
“Maybe you could find that book you’re looking for, that sequel.The Blue Towers?”
For a second, Tobias was just confused. He’d actually been looking forThe Two Towersafter finishing the first in the series (twenty-five cents at the last book sale), but it didn’t seem like the time to be looking for literature when there could be a ghost killing people in the very same town. He loved reading stories, he loved that Jake let him, but keeping people safe was much more important. “But if you need any help...”
“No, I got this, Toby, it’s fine.” Jake made a vague flapping gesture, looking nervous and about as uncertain as Tobias was. “I’m just gonna be over on the computers, see if they’ve got some old newspaper articles digitized. You can catch up when you find it.”
Tobias nodded slowly, even though he was still confused, and stepped toward the genre section while Jake leaned on the help desk for a second and then headed over to the computers. This was clearly important to Jake, so Tobias was willing to follow his instructions until he could figure out what Jake was thinking.
But when Jake just ended up sitting at one of the computers and laboriously two-finger typing the code to access the files he wanted, Tobias was confused. He could have done that. He could have done thatfaster.
It took him about two minutes to findThe Two Towers, and then, even though Jake didn’t seem to want him involved, he came over. He thought that sitting on the floor would draw attention—the only other person sitting on the floor was a chubby five-year-old smashing blocks together in the reading area while a tired-looking woman read a book with a shirtless man on the cover—so he cautiously pulled one of the unoccupied computer chairs closer behind Jake.
Jake’s brow was furrowed, all his attention focused on typing into the search engines. Typing with two fingers. Tobias’s own fingers itched. He could have done in less than five seconds what took Jake entireminutesto accomplish. He wasn’t sure if this was a brilliant plan of Jake’s to look less computer-literate than he was or if he really hadn’t ever gotten the hang of it. Even before the Director, Tobias had been good with computers. The Director’s systems of punishments and expectations had jumped his words-per-minute rate some twenty words and taught him to find his way around any operating system that FREACS had and even some that the Director had brought in specifically to test his adaptability.
Even at Jake’s glacial speed, finding the pertinent information about the death was easy. There wasn’t much about any “Margie” killing her significant other on the internet, but the local papers had all been scanned into the archives. They barely had to scan back three months before the article came up.
Eddie Womsley, unemployed drunk and wife beater, had been shot to death in June by his wife, Margie, shortly after the police had been called in on one of their many domestic abuse calls. He was survived by aforementioned wife and a son, fourteen-year-old Liam, who had been a frequent victim of his father’s drunken rages along with his mother. Margie had pled self-defense and been found innocent. Everyone knew Eddie had been a rat bastard, and most of the town felt that they should have done something before she had had to fire a .22 into his skull and leave him to bleed out over the living room rug.
“Bingo,” Jake said, looking at the brief obituary. “Quiet Oaks Cemetery.”
“Salt-and-burn, right?” Tobias asked.
Jake jumped in his chair and swore, and Tobias hunched back guiltily, wishing he had stayed in the reading area like Jake had meant for him to. Then Jake turned to give Tobias a wide, half-appraising, half-troubled look. His gray eyes rested on the book in Tobias’s lap, then lifted back to his face.
“Toby,” he started, then blew out his breath and looked back at the computer screen. “Let’s talk about this in the car.”
Heart hammering, Tobias returnedThe Two Towersto its shelf (he still had two or three books to read that Jake had bought, and he didn’t have a library card here) and followed Jake out.
