Page 105 of Good Enough
She made no move to put on her seat belt, so he reached across her, grabbed the belt, and buckled her in. It brought back a silly memory of them before. Her struggling with the belt. Him buckling her in. Her over-the-top flirtatious bimbo impression. Now, she was a shell of that woman. Not quite an automaton, but definitely not a self-assured individual right now.
The drive was silent. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a read on her. She was looking out the front window, a blank stare and a ramrod spine, those straight white teeth were now worrying her right thumbnail.
Yeah, not good.
He pulled up in front of her house, turned off the truck, put his left forearm on the steering wheel, and angled his body to watch the house itself, waiting for her to speak.
When her voice came, it was just above a whisper. “I watched the final cut last night. Had breakfast on the lot. Met with Stapleton on the final audits. That was a total shitstorm of apocalyptic proportions.” She was laughing, but it was more incredulous with a touch of hysteria thrown in. “When I got home from that meeting and got to the top step, something felt off.” She stopped.
He shifted his head to look at her instead of the house. She was still looking straight ahead. Not out the window at the house. Not at him. Just staring straight out the windshield.
“Kubrick?” he encouraged softly.
She put a hand up to her nose and pinched the bridge. “I know I should have called the police, but… I couldn’t. I’ve fucked up big time, and I’m scared.” She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap.
Waters wanted to put a hand on top of her twisting fingers. Instead, he just said, “Stay here.” He got out of the truck, but before closing her inside, he hesitated a moment and then offered, “There’s a Glock under your seat. Remember what I taught you.”
“Oh, I remember,” she murmured sarcastically.
He frowned.
“Did you lock everything back up?”
“No. I don’t know. I just… after…” There was a slight hitch in her breath with the unfinished thought.
Okay, so expect the unexpected.
With that, he shut the truck door, locked the truck from his fob, and began moving up the sidewalk. Attempting to look casual, he pocketed his aviators and jogged up the sidewalk and five steps, kept his keys out as if they were keys to the doors, and pushed open the screened-in porch door.
He was about to go for his lock picks when he saw the gap between the door and the frame. A slight nudge with his elbow allowed the inner door to swing open. Waters reached behind to pull his second Glock out of the holster beneath the Henley he wore.
What was that saying Kubrick used? Holy hell, horseshoes, and hand grenades!
He was not prepared for what met his eyes, but someone watching him wouldn’t have known it by the way he stepped through the door and began to clear the main floor.
Living room.
Clear.
Closet.
Clear.
Upstairs.
Quick scan up the stairs. Pass momentarily.
Kitchen.
Clear.
Basement.
Wait for that. Too much to clear on my own and way too many questions that need answering.
Waters shot his left arm free of his sleeve and spoke into his watch face. “E.T. Call home.” The face lit up with a neon green outline.
The watch beeped twice, and then God’s bark came over the speaker. “Just talked to Demon.”