Page 123 of Now and Then
Her face morphs into a sarcastic mask. “What? You mean taking the day off from work when it’s literally on fire and allowing you to plan an entire day without my knowledge or approval?”
“I mean, that’s a bit dramatic, but, yes.”
“Nope. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” I hold open the door of the store and heat blasts our faces.
It takes about thirty-two seconds before Sutton’s hand falls from mine, and she’s lost in a home decor labyrinth.
“I’ll be back soon, Sutton,” I call out as I leave.
Logan’s office smells like stale coffee and printer ink. His desk is littered with paper and sticky notes. I thought my station was old, but his is ancient.
“You weren’t kidding,” Logan says without looking up from his notes. “Daley gave you just enough to be useful.”
I step beside him. A map of the county is pinned under a stack of property records.
“Three abandoned sites on the north side,” Logan says. “Two old storage buildings by the lake. And . . .” He taps the edge of the map. “The lumber mill.”
My jaw tightens. “That place hasn’t been touched in years.”
“Yep, and those are just the places in Suncrest. There’s dozens on the way here.” He points to a list of addresses on his laptop.
I pull up the locations online, but there aren’t many photos. Some of these places have been empty for decades.
“These four”— I point to the addresses—“make the most sense for a large-scale operation base because they’re remote and structurally isolated.”
He slides another folder toward me. “They’ll route bulk chemical orders through shell companies, then ship everything to abandoned properties no one would think to check.”
“You think they’re planning on ordering enough to cook?”
“Enough to try.”
“When I spoke to Daley, he said two weeks until the next delivery. That’d be . . .” I run a hand over the back of my neck.
“The weekend before Thanksgiving.”
It’s perfect timing. Families and friends will be too busy celebrating to pay attention to much else.
“If I were you,” Logan says, “I’d inspect all these buildings. I’d focus on the north side, then work my way west.”
I wipe my hand over my mouth and brace my hands on my hip. I’m already trying to determine who’s in town right now to help me and Chris with our initial investigations and how long warrants will take. My foot taps an incessant beat against the worn linoleum floor.
“You good, man?” Logan asks.
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t call me out on my obvious lie.
As I step outside, a text from Sutton lights up the screen.
Sutton: I may or may not have found our dining table.
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
Two completely different worlds. I shove my phone back in my pocket and head across the street to my parked truck, the list of possible locations a brick in my back pocket.
The home store is even busier than when I left Sutton, and it takes me several minutes before I locate her in the living room decor aisle, arms full of throw pillows. As if she needs any more of those.
