He waved the laminated badges on plastic lanyards in front of me. The logo was unmistakeably Vice and seemed to radiate offence, which made it almost—ALMOST—comical that Rush was the one holding them. "They'll be a treat for the kid, eh? And you'll be able to get closer—"
I felt like tearing my hair out and very nearly did. "That's exactly my point!" I yelled, interrupting him with a blind fury that would have mortified me under any other circumstances. "How am I going to do BOTH of my jobs at the same time? There's no way I'm letting him anywhere near her! I'm – sorry, sir, but this is about as big a conflict of interest as it can get."
Even before the words were out of my mouth, Rush looked shameful, as though repentant. "I know. I'm deeply sorry beyond words to put you in this situation. I had thought you'd want your chance to make up for losing the case last year..." He looked away. "Another OD last night, in a hotel where he was seen checking in—young girl, couldn't have been more than Saga's age. Can't pin anything on him because surveillance shows he never even went in the room. She must have waited for him there, but he never returned, and she was perfectly healthy up until then. For all we know, she was always meant to commit suicide, but if he talked her into shooting up, that's third-degree murder."
I hated hearing every new detail of the jerk's life. It sickened me as a decent, upstanding individual—hell, as a PERSON. "But I can't let that happen to Saga. Not any girl, but ESPECIALLY not her."
"What if we sent someone else along to chaperone? So you could sneak off for a bit and the kid's none the wiser OR in danger?"
I hesitated. Rush tended to make me think twice about my judgement as it was, but this idea was a solid nudge. I had to hold out for a shove. "...better, but it was supposed to be just the two of us going."
"Ah, kids don't care about that. I guarantee you that, as indiscreet as Vice is, Saga's just as eager to assert her independence. She'll be trying to sneak off when you're not looking, anyway. Why not have someone watching your back in both senses?"
"Who?"
"I was thinking of Crystal."
The notion surprised me. "For field work?"
"We're short-staffed now, as you know. The latest influenza outbreak has most of our free agents either incapacitated or not in a state to do undercover work."
That was a concern as well. As unlikely as it was, what if one of us ended up under fire? "Is she packing?"
"What do you think she does in her spare time? The firing range is practically her second home after the stresses of work."
Rush really managed to surprise me sometimes. "You're not giving me a lot of options, are you."
"Do your job? If you put it that way, no." He placed the badges around my neck and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "I'm just making it as easy for you as I feasibly can. It's only up to you whether you can handle Vice."
"I can," I insisted. "Like hell I'm letting him win!"
"That's my girl," he praised, which gave me butterflies. I smirked weakly at him and straightened my collar. It was all on me, then? Even Mr. Rockford, as much as he hated the idea of his little girl being exposed to the worst of humanity's offences, conceded that Saga had a life and mind of her own and gave his, er, 'blessing.' Why did it have to hinge on me?
I felt my heart sink deep into my chest. Even my therapist had been conflicted on whether confronting him again was a good idea, given our history. "Well, there's going to be hundreds of people there," I rationalised with trepidation, "and two of them will be packing. I guess it should be okay."
Rush smiled. "Really, I do appreciate the sacrifice you're making. There'll be a nice little bonus in your holiday pay this year if you come up with something."
"Sure." Unless it was a shuttle off-world for the new year or full coverage for my therapy, I had a hard time believing it would really make up for this. Why was I the only one who valued preserving my sanity? I sighed, bemoaning all of the things I did for him. If it was anyone else who asked, ANYONE at all...
He handed me a file containing the general layout of the arena and some details on a JAM project that NSA uncovered. I skimmed the pages and handed them back—I wasn't about to lose important files that I could commit to memory in an instant. It seemed there wasn't much else to do but go.
On my way out, I rendezvoused with Crystal to synchronise our meeting plans, then I dropped by the electronics store to pick up a new mobile. Finally—and it took all my nerve to go through with it—I dropped by the Rockfords' house to pick up my date.
"Saga!" I called, knocking at the door. "Are you ready to go?"
As quickly as she appeared, it was like she had learned how to stop time, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's roll!"
"Hold up," I said, pulling out my spare helmet. "Wear this. Also, keep this on you. My number's programmed in." I handed her the mobile as well.
She beamed like a child with a new toy. "Thank you so much for doing this! I know I must seem awful at times, but I really do appreciate everything."
"It's my pleasure," I mustered through gritted teeth. "I know what it's like to go without. You deserve a break now and again. Speaking of—" I took out one of the passes and held it up, though I could have sworn it seared my fingers as it did. "I, er, managed to get these..."
Saga was downright gobsmacked, nearly dropping the mobile I had just given her. I had to place the pass around her neck and lead her by the hand to the chopper before she finally snapped out of it. "THANK YOU!!" she cried, giving me a tremendous hug. I had a difficult time breathing, but – I suppose it was worth it.
Driving to Vienna was a pain at this hour, but it was going to have to be early if I was going to complete my assignment. Staying late wouldn't be a problem—for Saga—but I wanted to case the area when there were the fewest obstacles. At least she seemed to be enjoying the ride as well. I'd have to remember that and give her rides more often.
It was crowded even as early as we arrived. "Remember, don't lose those," I instructed as I put my bike into park. It was a cool evening, and I was starting to wish I'd brought a jacket like Saga.
"What's with the wig?" she asked as I pulled off my helmet.
"Oh." I took a moment to straighten it out. "Trying a new look, why not." Mostly, I didn't want Vice to possibly recognise me.
She giggled. "I don't think I ever would have pictured you as a brunette."
"Blondes have all the fun, no?"
Saga rolled her eyes in a 'yeah, whatever' look.
We entered the arena and got our hands stamped at the box office. I expected to take our seats and relax for a bit, but when we arrived at the arena proper, all of the seating was gone. "Oh," I muttered.
"What?"
"I've never been to a concert with a mosh pit before."
"Huh? You expected to SIT the whole time?" Saga laughed at me like I asked when the sky started being blue. "Dancing is half the fun!"
I sighed. Hopefully I wouldn't lose her too easily... Speaking of, where was Crystal? I tapped on the night vision in my glasses, taking a quick glance at the beacon tucked away in my sleeve to make sure it was working. Yup. No sign of hers, though—perhaps she was stuck in traffic? At least the one I hid in Saga's mobile was active, what times it peeked out of her jacket pocket.
Time to get to work.
We entered the main arena, where the crowd was starting to get antsy waiting for the main act. I was antsy, too, wondering how I was going to pull this off. Rush seemed to have a lot of faith in me, and I wished I'd had as much faith in me as he did. I wasn't an old fogey by far, but I felt out of place among the hordes of kids still in or straight out of high school, like I was the sole chaperone at a rather large, extravagant promenade.
No, maybe I was an old fogey after all—I expected a dance to be fancy dress time, and some of the kids were barely what I could consider dressed at ALL. It was also a partial open-air amphitheatre, while the dances I had attended were in an indoor ballroom that didn't have speakers larger than an SUV hanging in every corner and giant plasma screens covering the stage walls and ceiling. That was intimidating as it was without adding the guest of honour.
As though on cue, a blast of noise burst from the stage, to which the audience responded in kind. "Aight, Wolf Trap!" shouted an all-too-familiar voice over the PA. "Thank you for having me back! I do so love playing the East Coast. The girls are hotter, not to mention easier—if you know what I mean, and I think you do, ladies!"
A wild cheer echoed through the mosh pit, which only made me want to expel the contents of my stomach. Unfortunately, my years of therapy weren't helping me cope in the slightest. All that was getting me through the night was getting to the bottom of Vice's involvement in this JAM project that was worrying Rush and hopefully putting him permanently out of commission.
I glared up at the stage. Vice was tall as it was, but the screens made him look even larger than life. He dwarfed other DJs with his gear, yet he still commanded a major presence despite the equipment taking up most of the stage. His attitude and setlist were abrasive, yet the kids were eating it up. I periodically looked over at Saga to make sure I didn't lose her, and every gleeful sparkle in her eyes was a shot through the heart for me. It's just one night and you're a speck in the crowd, I reminded myself. Just do your job and get the hell out of Dodge.
When I thought I couldn't take any more, I got a buzz. Crystal! "Here, Box 13." I whirled around and clicked on my night vision—there she was in the box seats with her beacon waving from her wrist. I slipped mine out and waved back to her with my right hand as I sent her a message with my left: "Mosh, f&c."
"I want to check out backstage!" Saga yelled to me. I nodded, signing that I would follow. This was the part that worried me most—I sent another buzz Crystal's way as a heads-up, "BS, 10-41."
The roadies looked pleased to see us when we flashed our passes. It was difficult pretending to be excited when the greasiest of Vice's escorts would be eyeing Saga up and down. Maybe if I didn't know what really went on behind the scenes, how many young women like her ended up in the least enviable of positions after flirting with his particular brand of danger. Do my job, I virtually screamed at myself. Crystal has your back, DO YOUR JOB.
I took a gamble on leaving Saga for a moment, waving at Crystal while I did. While she was being given the tour, I feigned disinterest, walking toward the restrooms. When no one was looking, I slipped into the back, hugging the shadows.
There was a large trailer that had been parked well closer to the stage than seemed legal, something I was certain the managers might not agree with. It had to be Vice's, no doubt about it. I crept over and tried the door—either he was getting careless or wasn't concerned, possibly both, but it was unlocked. Quickly, I figured out why. The smell alone would set off any intruders, I realised as I stepped inside. It reeked of stale food, incense, dirty laundry, illicit – activities, among other things. It made me sick, but it also amazed me that others would choose to be in here of their own volition.
I scanned the area for anything remotely resembling incriminating evidence, careful not to touch any of it. Slob though he was, Vice was like me and would be able to tell immediately if anything was more than a hair out of place. Most of it was trash, unfortunately, and difficult to navigate without literally leaving a footprint.
I kept one eye on the door as I opened one drawer or cabinet, then another. Some contained utensils and road maps. Others were empty. One contained a box of snaps and a mysterious note with only one word scribbled on it, in familiar handwriting: "Gotcha."
Suddenly I had an eerie feeling in my gut. There was no way he could know I was here—could he? Either way, I had no idea what I was looking for. This stakeout was a bust. I didn't see any indication of the evidence NSA was after. Better get out while the getting was good.
I snuck out and back into the crowd without being detected. So far, so good. I didn't like the sense that I was leaving Saga to fend for herself, as much as I was sure she would have liked that. I had to find her and keep her out of trouble, at least do THAT much. Hopefully I wouldn't get any more assignments like these after this.
The entire building was dimly lit save some floor lights. It was hard to make out individuals in the darkness punctuated by strobe lighting. Unconsciously, I looked to the stage just as Vice was winding down for the next track. "This next one is a brand new mix, just for you! I call it 'Versus.'" He seemed to stare straight into my eyes even from the stage, sneering as he did.
I felt the beats pulse through my entire body as I made my way through the crowd. It was a slower BPM than I had expected for Vice, oddly enough, and it seemed out of place in his setlist. Furthermore, it sounded – familiar.
I finally paid attention to the melody, gritting my teeth. No wonder I recognised it, this was MY song! He'd butchered it and changed all the lyrics to his twisted version, but there was no doubt about it. I shouldn't have been surprised that he would stoop so low as to plagiarise me. No doubt he realised its significance and was laughing at me yet again in his—
Wait... This was a brand new track just for this show, he said? That seemed eerily coincidental to my attendance. I whirled around, hairs on the back of my neck tingling. "SAGA!"
She was nowhere in sight, nor was Crystal. I buzzed one, then the other on my mobile, but no response even after what felt like an eternity. I pushed my way through the crowd to the stairs, making my way to the nosebleed section. Even then there were too many people to navigate comfortably. I found the highest point I could and stared at the crowd through my night vision glasses, hoping to spot Crystal's beacon.
Nothing.
They weren't backstage that I'd seen—not that I figured Saga would stay there while the set was still going, but maybe if she thought she could get closer. I scrambled back to the stage, waving my pass to the bouncer as he smirked at me. "Have you seen my friend?" I asked. "Young girl with blue hair?"
"Her?" he replied, smiling. "Cute thing! Ah, I think she went back to the pit. Not really a lot going on back here just YET."
It made me nauseated thinking about what he really meant to say. "May I look?"
"Of course." He bowed as he stepped aside to let me pass. I whisked by, darting glances into the arena trying to spot their beacons—either of them.
Another hour passed as I scoured every nook and cranny of the arena while wading through a wall of noise. It felt as though I was physically being beaten from all sides by sound, even ignoring the blatant sexist messages strewn through the lyrics. No luck, even though the stage crew gladly let me enter whatever dressing room and closet I might come across. I buzzed both of them again and again but it seemed like I was getting the cold shoulder. Every moment that passed put me at greater risk of having a breakdown from the mental torture.
A set of amplified bells tolled through the arena, simultaneously echoing the time and ending the program. It was a nice spooky touch, perfectly complementing my dismay and reiterating my feelings that something was very wrong. "It's that time, everyone," Vice murmured in a soothing voice, to which the crowd responded with a low moan of disappointment. "Oh! Yes, I hate to do this to all you beautiful people—especially the ladies—but the night is young and crying out to be used to its fullest! And I do mean used – to – the..." He paused for effect, whispering the last. "...fullest..." Cries of excitement smattered the air, some declarations of love from various women that made me cringe.
"And with so many of you beautiful people here, I can't fathom ANYONE leaving alone tonight! Why don't you say hello to the person next to you and, if you so fancy, get to really, ah – KNOW each other, if you know what I mean? ...yes, I love you, too, ladies, but tonight I have a date with an angel. Yes, I know... I'm sorry, but tonight is very special to me. The good news is I'll be auditioning for future dates starting tomorrow!"
I tried to tune out his voice as I scoured the audience for signs of either of Saga's and Crystal's beacons. I was already on edge when someone tapped me on the shoulder, making me start. It took some effort not to draw my gun on the roadie who was trying to get my attention.
"Whoa! I didn't mean to scare you there!" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I've, ah, been asked to bring you to the manager's office, hope you don't mind."
For an instant I let myself believe I was finally getting some help. What a fool believes... What other choice did I have, though? "Lead the way." It had to be Vice—all of the clues he was leaving behind like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to a door that wouldn't be opened until he wanted it opened, plus the fact it was the one place I hadn't been granted access...
As we arrived at the manager's office, the roadie opened the door and showed me inside where, to my horror, Saga was sitting on the modular seats along the wall, cozying up to Vice as though they were a couple. I nearly shrieked at the sight but caught myself—my showing weakness was one of his greatest turn-ons. Why did my worst nightmares have to keep coming true? Further, why did that then mean they kept getting worse?
The two of them looked up as I entered, but only just. "Hi, Anna," Saga murmured, barely audible.
"Oh, is this your friend?" Vice asked in the fakest innocent tone I'd ever heard, holding out a hand between glances at Saga. "It's so good to meet you! I'm Vice – but I suppose you knew that if you're at my show..."
"You know who I am," I snapped, striding forward.
He glanced back at me and pretended to finally recognise me under my wig. "Oh, YES! I do remember now." He put a hand to his mouth in mock astonishment. "You were that sweet little number at my trial. Didn't imagine for the life of me I would see YOU here, much less backstage!"
I gnashed my teeth, wondering how I should kill him, first for laying a hand on Saga and twenty more times for each year he'd laid a hand on ME.
"That's a hot look for you," he said in his most sarcastic seductive tone. "Is it a bob or a flip? I never quite got those terms straight. Love the colour, too! Gives me some ideas... Can't say I'm fond of the holster, tho—"
"What? You brought a GUN?" Saga bawled, astonished that she had missed it in all of the excitement. "How did you get that past security?"
This just wasn't getting better. "I know your feelings about weapons, Saga, but I do have a license, and I'm always on call."
She still frowned. "At a concert."
"Of all places, yes." I had to give it to him, Vice was a master at his craft of making my life miserable.
"I suppose I can't ask you to leave purely on the basis of carrying a concealed weapon," he sighed with an even more excessive air of melodrama than I had believed was possible. "Not that I mind your gracing us with your presence, but such mechanisms of violence tend to cramp my style—so destructive."
"And illegal narcotics aren't?"
Even behind his specs, I could tell he was rolling his eyes at me. "Why, I really have NO idea what you're talking about."
It wouldn't do me any good to recite chapter and verse, a detailed list of each and every name, place, and time of death for his hundreds of victims, direct or no.
"Anna," Saga pouted, "it's been such a lovely night so far. Please don't spoil it."
"Spoil? Oh, tsk, tsk." Vice shook his head. "Don't worry, we'll all have just a lovely time! Tell me what you want—anything!"
I started to rush him, but Saga immediately shot me a glare that seemed to throw herself between us. It infuriated me just how far the tables had turned.
"C'mon, I know you want something. What is it? You can tell me..." He worked his magic on her, not quite pressuring her to do anything, just being obliging enough to get under her skin. She practically melted, giggling and whispering something in his ear, which made his eyes light up with mischief. "Oh, really? Is that all?"
The look in Saga's face was painful to witness. She was totally enamoured with him! I wanted to shoot him on the spot, but I couldn't traumatise her like that—not after what I'd been through. As bad as I'd had it, that would be so much worse.
Maybe he wouldn't do anything to her. It seemed like a long shot, but maybe he knew he could use her as leverage. It sickened me just thinking that, but as long as she wasn't hurt in any way, I would be in check. I didn't know his exact M.O., since he presumably behaved differently around others—I didn't expect even with his charisma that girls would be banging down his door if he treated them the way he treated me. Did he promise to do something for Saga, or was she just caught up in being around someone famous? Even after this whole sordid affair was over, I would live in fear for her, with the ease that Vice seemed to find the exact things that would hurt me most. Just the worry would put me in therapy until the day I die.
With a deft motion, he pulled a small digital camera out of one of his pockets. He held it out at arm's length and pulled her close, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he took the picture. "All yours," he said, handing her the camera. "Think that's enough proof for your friends?"
Saga snatched up the camera with a greed I'd never seen in her before. All she could do was squeal in delight at the shot. "Really? I can have this?"
"For a fan? It's nothing."
Thank you, she mouthed, unable to speak.
"How 'bout your friend – Anna, was it?" he suggested, sneering at me when Saga wasn't looking. "You want a shot with me?"
Whatever her secret motive, Saga seemed to realise it wasn't a good idea. "No way," she snapped, giggling. "You belong to ME."
"Ooo, feisty!" He started to move his hand somewhere it didn't belong.
"Hey, now," I barked, "she's sixteen."
"Is that so?" Vice's expression seemed very matter-of-fact. "My, they grow up so fast, don't they?" He stroked some of Saga's hair, twirling it around his finger. "I suppose I'll have to behave then, but will I see you again in a few years?"
Saga blushed nearly the same shade of red I was feeling, for different reasons. If her mother had been there... Then again, if her mother had been around, this situation wouldn't have ever happened, would it? I apologised quietly to Mrs. Rockford for my indiscretions and promised to get her daughter home safely.
Yet nothing he did, as egregious as he was, was enough to warrant the kind of behaviour I was envisioning. I was correct: As long as he acted like a perfect gentleman, she would be on his side. Maybe that meant she would be safe – but for how long?
Saga fiddled with the camera, taking several more pictures of Vice to go with the first one. He obliged with pride, striking several seductive poses.
"Nice track," I interrupted, to get him talking. I still had a job to do, and maybe he would slip up. "Your new one? 'Versus'?"
He lit up with glee. "Oh, do you like it?"
"I wrote that, you thief. That was my lullaby for the kids, to put them to sleep when they were little. We had so many happy memories of that song. How did you get it, and why did you turn it into your depraved ode to sin?"
"Thief?" He pouted in a way that might have been endearing if I didn't know what he was really like. "That's so harsh. We creative types have to deal with so many infringements of our own work as it is without people coming in and claiming I stole your LULLABY? I mean, that would be a hell of a coincidence, wouldn't it?"
A hell of a coincidence indeed. I closed my eyes and remembered the twins in their childhood.
"Little children, time for bed, to rest your head and dream a dream."Nice improv," he jeered, grinning knowingly. "Have you thought about going into music? The indie scene is HUGE now, I bet you'd have a shot at instant stardom!"
Don't you worry, nighttime comes, but scary things aren't what they seem.
Crawly bedbugs are twinkling stars up in the sky, or velvet sheep.
Count them slowly, say goodbye to yesterday,
And sleep..."
If Saga realised the implications of our argument, she didn't let on, not taking sides. Was she seriously defending him? She had as vivid a memory as I did—I couldn't believe she wouldn't remember after how many years? It was absolutely NOT a coincidence his track was identical, down to the metre!
"Saga," I coaxed, realising the fight was getting all of us nowhere, "it's getting late. Your father must be worried about you by now, and I'm sure these NICE people want to pack up for tonight." I felt as though I was extracting a duckling from the mouth of a hawk.
"Aww." Saga looked put out but seemed to agree. "This has been THE coolest night of my entire life, Vice. I'd love it if it lasted forever – but yes, I have to get back to my family."
He seemed to mope at her lack of rebelliousness, but I knew she was a good kid at heart, always mindful of her grades and family's well-being despite how much trouble it was. Hopefully, she was also mindful of the thin line she was already walking between indulging herself and hurting me further. When Vice started to protest, I waggled a finger at him and shook my head. Sixteen, I mouthed.
What could he do? "Aight," he said, shrugging. "Buzzkill, but I know when to call it a night." Oh, the lies he told! Standing, he bowed and offered Saga a hand up. "I do hope you enjoyed the show?"
"Oh, I did," she said with a smirk, still giddy. She walked toward the door, with a hint of hesitation as she approached it. "It really has been a lovely night."
"My pleasure."
I tried to put myself between them as Vice followed her. Though she continued through, he paused just before reaching me.
"Ooo, let me give you my number," he cooed after Saga was out of sight. Before I could protest, he slipped something in my—
I couldn't stop my reflex to slap him, but he grabbed my wrist before I made contact. If Saga had seen that, I don't know how she would have reacted, but her voice from farther down the hall suggested she hadn't. "...Anna?
"I'll see you again you-know-when," he murmured in my ear, laughing evilly as he did so. It took all of my effort to resist recoiling, if not shooting him then and there. "Oh, last thing," he added, crinkling his nose, "you stick out like a sore thumb with your special little glow sticks. Just a tip."
What! He couldn't possibly know which frequency to use to see them! Yet—if he saw us...
Saga peeked back into the room. "Anna..."
I shook my head. "Unbelievable," I muttered, trying to pretend he hadn't caught me completely off-guard. "Just – fff... Okay, we're leaving now."
Vice grinned at her again, waving as he did. "Hope to see you at my next show."
That seemed to satisfy her. I quickly led her back to the chopper before anything worse could happen. Once we were there, Saga snapped at me. "Is that why you're mad at him? Just because he stole your song?"
"You don't care?" I stared at her in disbelief. I almost didn't have any words for her—at least, nothing that wasn't colourful. "I thought it meant... No, it's not just that! He gets his jollies by hurting – people."
"He didn't hurt me."
"Maybe not yet. A kid who sets bugs on fire isn't a good kid just because he doesn't also hit his mother. There's something off about what happened tonight." I hated that I couldn't dislodge the note poking my skin without Saga noticing, and that I couldn't check on Crystal without breaking cover.
What HAD happened to her? This was disastrous. I had to report to Rush as quickly as possible. Was it safe to use my mobile? Did Vice have some kind of monitoring program on my number? ...no. He was smart, but he was lazy—he wouldn't do something unless he absolutely had to do it to get what he wanted, and monitoring was a time-consuming chore. It didn't seem to matter at this point anyway if he intercepted my message.
I pretended to check my mobile for messages. "Oh, my boss wants me in early tomorrow," I lied. "Let me reply really fast, then we'll get going." Hopefully, that shouldn't raise any suspicions about my being anything more than an assistant bailiff. I sent a buzz to Rush's desk—NSA would be checking incoming calls for bugs, if Vice actually was watching me. [C, Marco.]
After I finished, Saga was staring back towards the arena. "Okay, ready?" I asked, grabbing our helmets and holding one out to her.
"I thought I heard fireworks over there, but I didn't see anything."
Her words gave me chills. "Where?"
"From the stage, maybe a bit behind."
Let it not be her, I thought, my imagination going crazy. It was just a car or motor backfiring. Crystal is fine—just get out with Saga. "What do you think..." I asked, prompting her for my next course of action.
"I dunno," she said, as though lost in a daydream. "This place is usually too pricey for pyromaniacs, I thought. Security's pretty tight, though, it's probably nothing."
"Hope that's it. Ready, then?"
If she was having any second thoughts, they weren't pressing enough. "Aight. Let's roll."
The downer of an end note to the show nevertheless didn't keep her from having a little smile on her face. At least I had that much going for me, even if it meant more trouble later. The ride back was delightfully uneventful, though I couldn't get my mind off of Crystal. Until I heard back from her or Rush, it was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Just as we arrived back at the house, after disembarking and Saga giving me back her helmet, I received a buzz. I had only meant to take a quick peek while she walked to the door, but it was enough to make me start. [C, Polo. 10-52.]
"What is it?" Saga asked, noting my concern, but I barely heard her. No, Crystal was NOT gunned down! No! No, no, no no nononoo—
My legs had a mind of their own. Even as my brain was still processing the message on my mobile, I was already back on my bike and lifting the kickstand. I didn't even know what I meant to do—all I knew was that there was a deceptively sweet middle-aged lady who would be happily blasting paper targets full of lead if it wasn't for me.
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