help?” Brett needed to stay in the game, keep his mind occupied because eventually he needed to get back to work. Idle time only gave him opportunity to worry about Quinn.
“Thought you’d never ask. Feel like hiking?” Clay smiled.
“Where?”
“There’re a few sites near here. I could use another man on the hunt team. You can use your iPhone to find the coordinates for the cache box. Hand me your phone.” Clay held out his hand and waited.
Brett took his phone out of the clipped case and handed it to Clay.
“It’s not every day you can hunt for dicks-in-a-box.” Clay snorted.
Brett chuckled.
Clay added. “The media has leaked this, so there’s a good chance there’ll be more geo-hunters looking for caches than ever before. We can’t keep the press out of it. We can’t block off every site, and game players are adding new sites every day.”
Brett couldn’t believe there were so many geo-hunters in the county when he’d never heard of the sport until yesterday. He moved his chair next to Clay, looking over his shoulder at his iPhone. “Show me what I need to know.”
#
After Clay left, Brett searched in the little shed outside his flat for his old hiking boots. He hadn’t worn them in years. He used to hike trails but hadn’t for a long time. He glanced at his watch: 8:05. Maybe he had time to pay Mark a visit first.
When he saw Max’s spare leash hanging on the wall, an emptiness filled him. Too bad the dog wasn’t here; Brett could use his expert sense of direction. Brett could get lost even if he had a compass.
Where are you, guy? We miss you.
The side door into his shed creaked open. “Brett?”
Brett jumped. Ali stood in front of him. Her short blond hair stood flat on one side and straight up on the other. It looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. Her blue eyes looked almost purple from being bloodshot red. She leaned against the doorjamb as if she might fall over.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” Tears fell down her face. She wiped them with the back of her trembling hand.
He should have felt sympathy, but her tears didn’t matter anymore. “Okay. Come into the apartment. Give me a minute to shake the dirt off these boots.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk, but not till later, that’s all. Nowhere right now. We have an appointment with the counselor at ten. I’ve been trying to reach you, but you probably know that. You’re ignoring me, aren’t you?”
She avoided his eyes.
“That’s typical.” He turned his back to her, walked outside the shed, and hit the boots together, knocking off clumps of dried mud. He hit them with a little more force than necessary, dreading talking to her, knowing she’d probably lie again.
He left the dirty boots outside his door and invited her in.
She sat on a kitchen chair, reaching into a pocket for a tissue, while her eyes seemed to roam across the room. “Your place is really tidy.” She balled the hanky in her hand and pressed it against her temple. “I have such a headache.”
Brett nodded. “Of course you do. You have a hangover.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it.
She shed more tears and spoke in a whiny voice. “I want to go see the counselor today. What was her name?”
“Dr. Sarah Grinwald.” He sat across from her. “Tell me who was at the house yesterday.”
She looked away, swallowed, and met his gaze. “Mark.”
“Why? What did he want?”
“I don’t remember. That’s the bad part. I couldn’t wake from my fog.” She hesitated. “But I didn’t want Quinn to see him. I’m not sure if I was dreaming, but I locked Quinn in her room to keep her safe.”
“Safe from your brother? Why? What did he try to do to her?”
Ali shook her head and stood, then moved toward the kitchen sink. “Nothing. I don’t remember. Can I have a glass of water?”
Brett nodded and held his temper in check. She knew. She just didn’t want to tell him. “Help
“Thought you’d never ask. Feel like hiking?” Clay smiled.
“Where?”
“There’re a few sites near here. I could use another man on the hunt team. You can use your iPhone to find the coordinates for the cache box. Hand me your phone.” Clay held out his hand and waited.
Brett took his phone out of the clipped case and handed it to Clay.
“It’s not every day you can hunt for dicks-in-a-box.” Clay snorted.
Brett chuckled.
Clay added. “The media has leaked this, so there’s a good chance there’ll be more geo-hunters looking for caches than ever before. We can’t keep the press out of it. We can’t block off every site, and game players are adding new sites every day.”
Brett couldn’t believe there were so many geo-hunters in the county when he’d never heard of the sport until yesterday. He moved his chair next to Clay, looking over his shoulder at his iPhone. “Show me what I need to know.”
#
After Clay left, Brett searched in the little shed outside his flat for his old hiking boots. He hadn’t worn them in years. He used to hike trails but hadn’t for a long time. He glanced at his watch: 8:05. Maybe he had time to pay Mark a visit first.
When he saw Max’s spare leash hanging on the wall, an emptiness filled him. Too bad the dog wasn’t here; Brett could use his expert sense of direction. Brett could get lost even if he had a compass.
Where are you, guy? We miss you.
The side door into his shed creaked open. “Brett?”
Brett jumped. Ali stood in front of him. Her short blond hair stood flat on one side and straight up on the other. It looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. Her blue eyes looked almost purple from being bloodshot red. She leaned against the doorjamb as if she might fall over.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” Tears fell down her face. She wiped them with the back of her trembling hand.
He should have felt sympathy, but her tears didn’t matter anymore. “Okay. Come into the apartment. Give me a minute to shake the dirt off these boots.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk, but not till later, that’s all. Nowhere right now. We have an appointment with the counselor at ten. I’ve been trying to reach you, but you probably know that. You’re ignoring me, aren’t you?”
She avoided his eyes.
“That’s typical.” He turned his back to her, walked outside the shed, and hit the boots together, knocking off clumps of dried mud. He hit them with a little more force than necessary, dreading talking to her, knowing she’d probably lie again.
He left the dirty boots outside his door and invited her in.
She sat on a kitchen chair, reaching into a pocket for a tissue, while her eyes seemed to roam across the room. “Your place is really tidy.” She balled the hanky in her hand and pressed it against her temple. “I have such a headache.”
Brett nodded. “Of course you do. You have a hangover.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it.
She shed more tears and spoke in a whiny voice. “I want to go see the counselor today. What was her name?”
“Dr. Sarah Grinwald.” He sat across from her. “Tell me who was at the house yesterday.”
She looked away, swallowed, and met his gaze. “Mark.”
“Why? What did he want?”
“I don’t remember. That’s the bad part. I couldn’t wake from my fog.” She hesitated. “But I didn’t want Quinn to see him. I’m not sure if I was dreaming, but I locked Quinn in her room to keep her safe.”
“Safe from your brother? Why? What did he try to do to her?”
Ali shook her head and stood, then moved toward the kitchen sink. “Nothing. I don’t remember. Can I have a glass of water?”
Brett nodded and held his temper in check. She knew. She just didn’t want to tell him. “Help
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