Page 118 of Penny For Your Thoughts
Tallus had always proven to be strongly independent, wildly inventive, and utterly fearless. He didn’t shy away from a challenge and embraced every aspect of investigative work, no matter what it entailed—sometimes to his detriment. We’d been dating forthe better part of a year and a half, and I hadn’t once found the willpower to throw him off a case. He had an intuition my stubborn brain often rejected.
So, like always, I submitted to whatever unconventional plan he had up his sleeve. “All right. I’m going. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“I love you, Guns.”
“I love you more.”
Before he disconnected, I heard Darcy in the background. “Gross.”
***
The U-Stor was easy enough to find, particularly with the black cloud of smoke billowing from within the gated compound. Several fire engines and police cars were on the premises, the former battling a roaring blaze, the latter controlling passersby who stopped to gape.
Cars lined the street, looky-loos all gawking at the unfortunate disaster. A man in a U-Stor polo stood by the office building, chatting with a constable. The poor kid looked no older than Darcy and seemed distraught.
I pulled into a convenience store across the street and called Tallus.
“We’re almost in Brampton. Did you get a unit number? That was fast.”
“The place is on fire.”
“What? No it isn’t. I was just there.”
“Hang on.” I lowered the window, snapped a picture, and attached it to our chat box. “Incoming.”
“Holy shit. What unit?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Go ask. Pretend you’re a customer. Demand answers.”
“Tallus, the place is crawling with cops and firefighters. They aren’t going to let me near the place.”
“I bet a hundred bucks Lukyan set the fire. Go. Do it, Guns. I believe in you.”
“Why would he set a fire?”
“Because he lost Darcy last night and he’s terrified the kid is going to rat him out to the police.”
“I’m not a kid,” Darcy groused in the background.
“Diem, go get answers. Do I have to write you a script again?”
“No. Fuck me. I’ll call you back.”
I disconnected and got out of the vehicle. The cloying scent of smoke filled the air. I debated heading into the store first to grab cigarettes, but remembered my conversation with Aslan.
Although, cigarettes weren’t alcohol. I didn’t have to quit both. My therapist told menotto quit both at once.
I hedged, undecided, then cursed and crossed to the storage facility instead. Maybe that was the problem. I was trying to do too much at once. It didn’t seem to matter how many people told me I was setting myself up for failure. I was stuck in this stupid all-or-nothing mentality.
Fifty yards or so from the main gate, I stalled. Assessing the scene, I tipped my fedora forward, shadowing my face as I contemplated my approach. For once, maybe an irritable attitude would work in my favor. Be a surly customer, Tallus had said. Fine. I could do that.
I might not be an actor, but I was skilled at playing an angry brute, so I marched through the gate to the main office, where the cop and the U-Stor employee were in conversation. Thankfully, the constable wasn’t anyone I knew.
When I was within shouting distance, I yelled, “What unit?”
The pair stopped and turned. The cop held up a hand, warding me off. “You can’t come in here right now, sir.”
