Page 7 of Snow Blind (The Technicians #14)

T he order came from on high. The Chrysalis ruled the Great Lakes with an iron fist, for not only human trafficking, but drugs, women, and shady after-hours spots. The High Council consisted of the three: Hornworm, Swallowtail, and the Imperial. A simple request came in the middle of the night in a text message:

T HAT'S WHERE LAWRENCE Canton had made his mistake. He’d engaged with the Technician who, thus far, had no name. She was an enigma. His job, or rather the work order he’d received, simply dictated he track the woman and collect some intel. It wasn't an easy task, and he'd been paid handsomely to get started.

Based on what he knew of the Technicians, each one drove a black late model Ford F-150. The Archangels, or the handlers for each regional crew, the tailgates of their vehicles sported iridescent angel wings. The Watchers, or the Seraphim who didn't engage with bad people or good ones for the matter, simply kept watch, and reported the findings to a higher power. The Seraphim also drove black Ford F-150s with cherubic iridescent angels on the tailgate. These were easy to follow.

However, the woman was not. As far as he could tell, she didn't own a Ford F-150. The first job she undertook, Karlton and Ramon Santos, she was driving the shop of The Cherry on Top, a sniper. The Cherry used to cover Indiana. Thus far, he could find no trails of her, and everything on the woman dead ended.

"Maybe she's taking over Indiana," Lawrence said softly, going over his notes.

This approach also ended nowhere. He went to look over what he'd discovered in Wisconsin where the woman had shut down three Fields of Flowers in one night with minimal loss of life. Wisconsin was the territory of a master tracker, assassin and an all-around Bad Apple. However, his vehicle wasn't used that night. The F-150 used belonged to a Technician out of Pennsylvania, which technically was part of the Great Lakes region, but the dude was not a Fruit. He was a master tracker as well, with no yield in him.

"Dead end again," Lawrence said, continuing to search.

When he could not find a vehicle, he began to look for patterns. Patterns indicated methodology, and the woman appeared methodical, but he couldn't find a name for her. Lawrence looked for more warehouse closures in Wisconsin in the Milwaukee area and found none.

However, for three months, there was a sizeable amount of activity in mid-Ohio, with two Fields of Flowers being raided and a startup in Indiana shut down. It was then he started to pull the footage from CCTV, and an odd thing happened.

"I see you, Miss Ma'am," he said, smiling as he spotted the Wilderness Green Subaru.

He found the Subaru in Wisconsin, up around Janesville. Other tapes showed the same Subaru with Kentucky plates, in Ohio, in Indiana, and recently in the area around Antioch, Illinois. Ironically, as many cameras as the vehicle appeared in, the license plates were indiscernible. Lawrence couldn't even get a partial on the plates.

"Let's see how and where you spend your time, Miss Ma'am," Lawrence said, noticing the frequent stops to bookstores and coffee shops, and she seemed to prefer shopping at Target versus Walmart.

"I've got you," he said proudly after nearly a month of hunting for the woman. "I just have to wait."

Two weeks he spent observing the three bookstores in Antioch, and just as he was about to give up, a Subaru in Wilderness Green, pulled up to the front door. The one day he'd forgotten his camera was the one day when she’d showed up.

"She's black," Lawrence said, watching the woman exit the vehicle.

It wasn't so much the way the manner in which the lady got out of the vehicle; it was the method in which she got out of the vehicle that made him know for certain, he'd found his target. The woman opened the door slightly, checking all the mirrors of the car before slipping out of the door. A crossbody bag was slung over the sweater she wore, then she slipped on her coat. Cautious eyes scanned as if she were checking her sectors, and suddenly, her eyes stopped on him. He almost wanted to slide down in the seat, but that would have been too obvious.

For the oddest reason, he wanted her to know he was watching her movements. She noticed. A scowl came to her face and she pressed the fob in her hand to secure the vehicle. In the store, and based on where he stood on the street, her back never turned to the window.

"This is her," he said, making treks to the bookstore. He needed to see her up close.

The work order said not to engage, but after a month and a half of looking for a woman, he felt as if she owed him at least a smile. Everything in his soul told him not to enter the store, to not engage, just as the work order dictated, but he wanted to hear her voice. He needed to speak to her, possibly know her name.

"Simply lovely," he found himself saying aloud as he got closer to her. She smelled of cinnamon as if she'd been baking. "I've never seen you here before; are you new to the area?"

"Passing through," the woman told him.

He tried to ask her for coffee, or dinner, to talk. She was lovely. All natural. No fake tits, fake eyelashes, or those long acrylic nails with poo stuck under them. She wore a simple glosser on the full lips, and he was drawn to her like a hair on a biscuit.

Lawrence stepped aside as she made the purchases for books to be read by a man. The woman had a man. Jealously coursed through him at the thought of the cinnamon he smelled which indicated she'd baked fresh goods for the big-headed joker to enjoy when he came in from work. He'd be greeted with her loving arms and the gifts she'd been thoughtful to buy for him to read on his lunch breaks at the shit job where he worked.

He found himself craving her attention and wanting to know more about her. Lawrence watched her start up the car, and once she'd reached the traffic light on the corner, he made a beeline for his own vehicle. There were only two directions to head when you left the bookstore.

"She's going to Target," he said, based on what he'd learned about her patterns.

Lawrence found no need to rush since he knew where she was going. He'd give Miss Ma'am time to get to the store and get comfortable in her shopping. Then, he'd find her in the men's department, getting her man new socks, maybe a robe and new slippers that he'd wear as he sat in front of the fireplace, snacking on those cinnamon buns she made for him to eat after dinner.

"Bastard," he said, finding himself growing angry.

The anger showed on his face when he walked up to her in the store. She didn't seem too surprised to see him, although the act was put on for the security guard.

"He's making me uncomfortable," she confessed to the security guard, who escorted Lawrence from the store.

It didn't matter. When she left Target, she would go to a local coffee shop. There was a Big Bucks coffee shop inside the retailer, but she didn't seem like the type to order from the Seattle coffee maker. Miss Ma'am would want a local Mom and Pop shop, and he knew where she'd end up.

He drove there and waited. If she were true to form, this would be the next stop for some frou-frou bullshit with whipped cream sprinkled with fairy wings with a double pump of Madagascar vanilla shots picked by a blind monkey hanging upside down the mountainside where the sun only lasted for six hours. Lawrence smiled at his own jest as the Subaru pulled up.

Again, he watched her exit routine from the vehicle. A desire so powerful to kiss her shocked even him. Maybe if things worked out, he could be a hero for Swallowtail and bring the woman to them, broken, of course. A night or two under his watchful care and administration, and he could bring the woman to the Chrysalis as punishment for her transgressions.

"Wait, what is she doing?" he asked as he spotted her darting down the alley. The contretemps of her actions were puzzling him.

Hurriedly, he exited the truck, not caring if the door slammed. He jogged across the road, careful not to draw attention to himself. Easy steps led him into the alley as he searched for his mark. A moment of hesitation came hurling at his head when he thought about the last lines of the text, DO NOT ENGAGE. She was a slip of woman. No real threat to him. He could easily overpower her, knock her out, then stash her in a doorway while he fetched his vehicle.

The excitement of a possible private evening with the lady distracted him. He never saw the blow coming to his temple as he dropped to his knees, landing on his face in the alley. The lady left him there, minus the cash in his wallet and the credit cards. She even took his identification.

At home later that night, fear consumed him. She'd taken his identification, meaning she knew who he was, and she knew where he lived, and with that kind of information, she would know who he worked for to find her. He was screwed, not only with the Chrysalis for failing to follow the missive, but he had engaged with her, just as they told him not to, and now, he was going to more than likely be killed.

Days passed, and he would have to make the call. He'd have to confess to Swallowtail his failure and pray she didn't take his life. Finally, when the worrying turned to making him physically ill, he entered his kitchen in the middle of the night. On the counter sat his driver's license and the two credit cards taken from his wallet. Next to it was a single cranberry.

"What the hell is this?" he said looking around. Sweat beads popped up on his forehead and his mouth went dry.

Lawrence rushed to check the doors and windows for a point of entry. The alarm had been on and still was. The woman had entered his home. Fear coursed through him as he ran back to the bedroom and on his pillow was a copy of one of the books she'd purchased in the bookstore.

"Fucccccck!" he screamed, realizing she'd still been in his home when he went to the kitchen. "What have I done? Oh God, what have I done?"

****

H ELEN WAS ON THE MOVE . The Subaru was compromised. It was a five-hour drive to Louisville to drop off the car and pick up the Colorado pick up Mustang had given her. It would also be a good time to spend a day or so with Cherry before driving the two hours home to Plainfield. Thus far, she hadn't told her cousin that she was living with Mustang in Indiana or even told Cherry that Mustang had moved to Indiana. They would tell everyone at Christmas.

However, she needed to make a quick stop in Orland Park to return the driver's license and credit cards to one Lawrence Canton, a professional tracker used by the Chrysalis. It would seem Lawrence was contracted to find her. He’d succeeded, but she simply needed to drop by his place to let him know she'd also found him.

Spending three months with Lemon had taught her the finer points of accessing security systems with chemicals. A drop of acid here and a mixture of a few chemicals there and the systems were deactivated. She let herself into his home and even took a moment to watch him sleep.

Helen tickled the bottom of his foot as he tossed and turned, before finally sitting up. In the kitchen, she'd left his cards. She watched from the guest room as he passed by, going to the kitchen to discover the ID and credit cards. In his bedroom, she’d left a copy of the book Watchers by Koontz on his pillow, easing out the way she'd come in.

A small smile covered her lips, knowing it would fuck with his calm for the rest of his life.

"Yeah, I'm a fucking predator," Helen said, aiming the Subaru towards Louisville.

It wasn't something she would mention to Mustang. She didn't mention the tracker she had located on her car and transferred to the truck. She didn't mention any of it to anyone as she joined Cherry, Slow, and Naomi at the kitchen table for dinner. After dinner, she read a story to Naomi and listened to her speak about her pony, Miss Sprinkles. Helen sat and listened to her cousin complain about the disappearance of her vagina under the growing belly and the constant need to pee, along with other bodily functions Helen didn't care to hear about.

At the end of the evening, before walking to the home gifted to her by her cousin’s husband, Slow stopped her.

"We miss you around here," Slow said.

"It's nice to be missed," Helen responded. "Ditto. Have a good night."

Cherry noticed the difference in Helen. Mr. Slow noticed the difference in Helen. The good news that he felt he needed to share with his wife, "She's no longer afraid to walk her path in the world."

"I'm more afraid for those crossing her path," Cherry said.

"Are you worried she no longer needs you, Abigail?" he asked, using her birth name versus the former Technician handle.

"No, she never needed me, Michael. I was always the one who needed her," Cherry confessed. "She knew it and allowed me the space to work through all the insecurities I had, but it worked out for both of us. Now is her time. I have to move aside and let her breathe."

"It's going to be interesting when all is said and done," Slow told his wife.

There were a number of things going through Helen's head. One was the home she had in Kentucky in the backyard of her cousin's property. The house needed a lot of personal touches, and when they returned for Christmas, she planned to decorate the hell out of it to make it fitting for her and Mustang. Secondly, the home they shared in Indiana required the same, and on her way home in a day or so, she planned to stop and buy up some things to make the place more personable. However, first, she needed to get through Thanksgiving with Bad Apple and the kids.

A smile sat at the corner of her lips imagining Mustang sleeping in one of the full-sized beds. His feet were going to hang over the edges. Then she imagined him meeting Stephen, and Ricky, and the laughter sneaked up on her.

"This is going to be good," she said, thinking of when her father would also meet the permanent man in her life. "Yeah, it's going to be good. First things first. Thanksgiving."