Spontaneous by Aaron Starmer Page A

‘Did you follow me to my rendezvous with Special Agent Carla Rosetti of the FBI?’ then I will say, ‘I understand that Tess might have driven me near the vicinity of the police station while you were inside with aforementioned government employee.’”
    â€œOh, honey,” Tess said. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
    â€œHit the deck,” I shouted, and I grabbed Tess by the shirt and pulled her below the horizon of the dash.
    â€œWhoa,” she howled. “A simple ‘slide down, please’ would have worked fine. I’m guessing you spotted them?”
    Head poking up and on a swivel, I checked the windows. “They’re getting in her car. She drives a Tesla.”
    â€œShe’s so rad,” Tess said. “I bet she plays poker. Hangs out at high roller tables wearing aviators and chewing a toothpick. I bet they call her Lady Nightshade.”
    â€œNo doubt,” I said, and I sat up. “They’re pulling away. We’re gonna have to tail ’em.”
    Tess checked her mirrors, pushed the bangs out of her eyes, checked her mirrors again, slipped the car in reverse.
    â€œCome on, come on,” I said. “Haven’t you ever tailed anyone before? Step on it!”
    Ever since forever, Tess could scold me with nothing more than a sigh. She sighed long and deep and said, “We will follow them. But we will be safe. A car chase is not how I plan to go out.”
    â€œFine,” I replied with a groan. “You know that I love you, right? Bunches and bunches.”
    â€œYou better,” she said as she pulled into traffic. “Bunches and bunches and bunches and bunches.”
    We were four cars behind Carla and Dylan. If a couple of stoplights didn’t go our way, we’d lose them. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, considering that Dylan said he’d fill me in on everything, but that was the equivalent of reading a recap of a TV show instead of watching it. When it’s information versus experience, you always choose experience.
    As we tailed them around the corner, past the Wawa and the Little League field, a text from Dylan lit up my phone.
    Why are you following us?
    â€œDammit! They made us,” I said.
    â€œThat’s Lady Nightshade for you,” Tess replied. “Can’t get anything past her.”
    I started to type a response:
    We’re out for a drive. You just happened . . .
    Then I thought better of it. Deleted and retyped.
    Me: Busted! Sorry. Curiosity.
    Dylan: It’s cool. Carla wants you to join us. She’ll drive slow.
    Tess must have seen my eyes go googly. “What’s up?” she asked.
    â€œDouble date.”

a meeting of minds
    T he parking lot next to the long-abandoned factory off Wooderson Road was thick with weeds. And the weeds themselves were thick. Like, celery thick. The sound of them smacking the undercarriage of Tess’s Honda was a jungle sound. Why the hell were we out here?
    Because Special Agent Carla Rosetti was calling the shots, that’s why. As we pulled in, she was already parked, out of her car, and putting up a hand like a traffic cop. Something that looked like a DustBuster dangled from her other hand.
    â€œReach for the sky,” she hollered as we exited the vehicle.
    We did our best, tippy-toeing and stretching out as Rosetti waved the device over Tess’s body. The thing was connected by a cable to her phone, where an app flashed and blipped.
    â€œMetal detector?” Tess asked. “Because I have a tin of Altoids in my pocket.”

    â€œWon’t matter,” Rosetti said. “This detects radiation. Explosives. The nasty stuff. It’s what the Secret Service uses. Top of the line.”
    Rosetti moved on to me, leaning in as she swept my body for . . . who knows what? Spontaneous combustion juice? As she bent over and her hair brushed my face, I gave her a good sniff.
    A little