“What the hell was all that with the strip tease?” Ben asked as he backed the van out of the parking space.
“I still can’t believe you did that,” Constance added, but you could almost hear the giggle in her voice.
My wife replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the answer was obvious, “Getting us out of there.”
“By takin’ your damn clothes off?”
“Aye, it worked didn’t it?”
“It embarrassed the kid,” Ben replied.
“And he couldn’t wait to get rid of me then, could he?”
“Yeah, maybe. I guess.”
“Then it worked.”
“You know they’re gonna be tellin’ stories about ya’ don’t ya’?”
“Aye, let them talk. They’ll be giving someone else a rest then,” Felicity remarked, then turned her attention to more pressing matters. With her next sentence, the deadpan delivery was gone and impatience suddenly underlined her words. “Have you found the map yet, Constance?”
“Still looking,” Mandalay called back to her.
The first thing Felicity had asked for when we climbed back into the van was a Missouri highway map. She gave no explanation other than that she needed the map, and she needed it right now.
Agent Mandalay continued rummaging about in the glove box, extracting all manner of Chinese take-out menus, receipts, and even Ben’s backup weapon. All the while, he was making haste for the nearest exit, looking to put some distance between Northwoods Mall and us.
I, for one, had absolutely no objection to that maneuver.
Eventually Constance extracted a wrinkled wad of semi-folded paper, gave it a quick glance, and then started to set it aside with the rest of the detritus.
“That’s it,” Ben announced before she dove in again.
“This?” she asked, holding it up. “For real?”
“Yeah, for real.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just give it to her, will’ya’?”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing anyway,” she muttered in reply as she handed the sample of origami-gone-bad back to Felicity. “Because I think something’s alive in there.”
My wife took the wad of paper and began looking for a free corner so she could unravel the map from itself. She reached up to click on the courtesy light but was met with nothing more than darkness and the popping noise of the switch.
“Bulb’s shot,” Ben offered.
“Obviously,” she returned, her irritation plainly audible. “And I can’t very well read this in the dark now can I?”
“Hey, you wanna chill?” he barked. “I’m workin’ on it.”
“Benjamin Storm!” she snapped in return. “Don’t you understand? We simply don’t have time to waste!”
“What did you just call me?” my friend asked, giving a quick glance back over his shoulder.
“That’s what she does when she gets serious,” I offered. “Uses your full name, just like her mother.”
Ben shifted his eyes back forward and immediately slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a rear end collision with a sports car. I couldn’t help but noticed that Constance instantly reached for the shoulder harness, pulled it across her chest, and stabbed the metal finger into the catch at her side.
“Yeah, well stop it, Felicity,” Ben called over his shoulder. “That just didn’t even sound right comin’ outta you.”
“Hey, just be glad she didn’t use your middle name,” I explained. “She does that when you’re in trouble.”
“Dammit, will you two quit joking,” Felicity demanded. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” I replied.
“Look, Felicity,” Ben replied as he turned the van toward the main exit. “I know we don’t have time. Trust me, I said it myself earlier, but a lotta shit has happened in the past two hours, and I’m still tryin’ ta’ get my bearings here.”
“Kimberly is being tortured!” my wife appealed, her voice rising slightly. “Don’t you get it?!”
“Goddamit, Felicity, yes! Yes, I get it. Isn’t that what I just said?” Ben growled. “Jeezus H. Christ, you’re worse than Rowan when it comes ta’ this shit!”
“Felicity,” Constance voiced, stepping into the role of mediator. “While neither Ben nor I can fully understand what you are going through, we do have a grasp of what’s happening. We’re on your side, but you are going to have to calm down.”
My wife huffed out a frustrated sigh and sat back hard in her seat. “Aye. I know. But the son-of-a-bitch is killing my friend.”
“Not if we can help it,” Mandalay replied with a note of compassion. “I promise.”
Ben angled the van toward the merge lane and shot forward into traffic, cutting off a small sedan in the process. Horns blared, but he continued wedging his vehicle into the flow of traffic anyway.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” he muttered as he shot an angry glance out his side window.
The light ahead of us winked yellow and my friend punched the accelerator, making the left hand turn onto Northwoods Drive just as it switched to red.
“Over there,” Felicity sat forward and exclaimed. “On your right. The gas station!”
“What?”
“The gas station,” she repeated urgently. “Pull in and get under the light so I can read the map!”
Ben jerked the van over into the next lane and then quickly hooked it into the lot. He pulled off to the side, out of the way, and rolled beneath a bright streetlamp. Felicity was already out of her seat and climbing over me to get to the door before we had come to a stop. I convinced her to wait a second while I levered it open and slid it back. She pushed past me the moment the opening was wide enough for her to fit through then continued spreading out the tattered map, which was literally falling apart in her hands.
Ben switched off the engine and yanked the keys from the ignition to kill the warning buzzer, then tossed them into the console.
“I’m going to go use the restroom and grab a coffee,” Constance announced, pushing her door open. “Anyone want anything?”
“Make that two,” Ben told her, reaching for his wallet.
“I’ve got it,” she replied. “Rowan? Felicity?”
“I’ll come with you,” I told her unbuckling and climbing out of the seat. I squeezed past Felicity, who’d yet to answer, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, anything?”
“What, oh, yes, a water,” she chirped absently, intent on studying the faded and torn rectangles of paper. Then, almost as an afterthought she added, “And maybe a new map too.”
I gave her a nod that I suspect she missed entirely, and then skirted around the nose of the van, following after Constance. Since we were parked along the far outer edge of the station’s lot, near the street, the store itself was a good thirty-five yards or better from us. Mandalay waited a moment for me to catch up, and then we fell in step with one another, strolling across the near deserted expanse of asphalt.
“Is Felicity going to be okay?” she asked.
I looked over and saw sincere concern in her face. “I think so,” I replied. “This case is really the first time she’s been through this sort of thing from my perspective. I think we’re both having a little trouble adjusting to the change of roles.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. Okay, so clear something else up for me. What was that whole thing with the whiskbroom? That some kind of WitchCraft thing or just a sudden attack of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder”
“It really is a spell actually,” I replied with a slight chuckle. “It’s meant to get rid of unwanted guests. Basically you just take your household broom and turn it bristles up. If the magick works, the unwanted guest will leave.”
“Don’t they get a little suspicious anyway when you scream ‘goddammit go away’?” she asked with a grin.
I laughed. “Yeah, well, I have to admit that was my own addition. But I guess there are some instances where that could work without the broom.”
Traffic was dying down out on the main road. I glanced at my watch and based on the time figured that it must be a dinnertime lull. Besides us, there were only two other vehicles on the gas station lot. One parked on the side of the building, and another with its lights on and sitting in a space near the front door.
An undulating breeze whipped along the lot, weaving its chill around the light standards and gas pumps as we walked. It swished through as if on a whim, caressing us with its gelid fingers, and then left as quickly as it had arrived. I found myself suddenly wishing that I had brought a jacket.
Still, the prickly cold that was running along my spine remained, even after the calm had returned. I shuddered at the feeling, my mind beginning to entertain the idea that it had not been an effect of the wind at all. As the hair on the back of my neck began to rise, I realized that my mind was apparently on to something, because it dawned on me that the sudden chill had come directly from Constance.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Mandalay said in a soft voice, more than a little incredulity wrapped around the sentence.
“About what?” I asked, confused.
She didn’t answer, but she was beginning to slow her pace.
We were a little better than halfway to the door when I shot a curious glance in her direction. At that same instant, her arm came out in front of me, extended like a barrier. Her steadily slowing footsteps now came to a complete halt. Her expression was deadly serious, and her eyes were locked straight ahead.
“Go back to the van, Rowan,” she told me in an even tone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused by her sudden change of demeanor.
“Go back to the van,” she repeated.
She moved fluidly, and her arm was no longer in front of me. Following the motion with my eyes, I noticed she was slipping her hand beneath the folds of her blazer. As it disappeared under the fabric, I heard a quiet snap. She continued speaking in a no-nonsense voice. “Tell Storm to get you two out of here and call for backup.”
Her hand was now filled with a forty-caliber Sig Sauer, and she was starting once again to advance on the storefront. I looked past her, through the large windows and at the brightly lit interior. It took a moment, but my eyes finally fell on the correct target, and I saw for the first time that which had not escaped her finely honed attention.
“Go! Now!” she hissed over her shoulder as she started to jog, angling toward a blind spot near the front door.