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“I’ve just had a tip-off about the girl,” I yell. “Get as many cars as you can to the redundant building that used to house the ambulances, near the hospital on Stock Island. There are civilians on site, so I’m going on ahead.”

I don’t wait for a response.

Taking the corner so fast it makes my rear wheels spin out and squeal, I speed towards the location on my phone, leaving a flurry of activity in my wake.

But I can’t leave behind the feeling of foreboding in my gut.

Twenty-Seven

Neve

Mood:damn,thesefingernailstaste good.

We wait for Oscar.

That’s the plan. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s a plan.

I chew at the corner of a fingernail I snagged earlier on a splinter and pace as I let my gaze rove, too nervous to wait patiently like everyone else is doing. We retreated to the building across the street after speaking with Oscar, a convenience store that hosts a steady stream of rush-hour and late-evening traffic. Remi and Oliver sit on the top step of the building’s aqua-hued wooden porch, while Jesse and Cope lean against a defunct drink machine.

Across the road, the one-time ambulance station sits silent and probably empty, its several bays of garage doors staring back at us with black eyes for windows.

The place doesn’t look abandoned, aside from a lack of personnel. It looks like the garage doors could open and an ambulance could come blazing out at any moment.

“Wonder why this isn’t in use anymore?” I wonder aloud.

Trees flank and encircle the building, and above their canopy, roughly a couple of football fields away, the glow of the nearby hospital lights illuminate a sky gone to dusk. “It actually seems to be a pretty good location.”

Remi half-shrugs and stands, reaching out to draw my hand gently away from my mouth. “No idea, but you’re not wrong.” He tugs me toward the porch. “Come sit with us.”

“I can’t sit. What if she’s in there, right now? And we’re just sitting here, waiting like a bunch of sissies.”

Jesse elbows Cope. “You should take her back to the car.”

I whirl on him. “We tried something like that yesterday. It didn’t work out too well, you might remember.”

“Then calm the fuck down. Sit. Act fucking normal.”

I glare, crossing my arms over my chest. He’s right, but I’ll never admit it.

“You guys just need to bite the bullet and have a good round of hate sex,” Cope suggests. “It would relieve a lot of the tension.”

“Nah. She’s too busy screwing all of you,” Jesse returns.

“It’s not like you want to have sex with me,” I shoot back. “I really wish you’d stop acting like a child.”

Oliver groans. “Now she’s in it.”

“I’m acting like a child?” Jesse straightens, his tone incredulous. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Remi inserts. “You’re acting like a jealous kid who wants the toy someone else has, but is too full of himself to simply ask to share. Time to play nice, Jesse. Everything we always wanted is right here. We just need you to not fuck it up.”

Jesse casts me one last fulminating glare—as if it were me who spoke the words—and stomps off.

I turn to Remi. “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. I said what needed to be said.”

“I could have done it. I was working up to it.”