“Why are we talking about this?” I sit up straight in the seat as he nears the busy campus parking lot. “And why are we going to the school?”
“We’re talking about this because I don’t want you backing out of this case with Elderman to be another thing you don’t get closure on. You should finish it out, Ryler. You’ll not only earn freedom from your past, but you’ll get to help take down one of the most dangerous men in the country.” He parks the car in front of the historically themed main office. “And we’re here to pick up my other informant, Brooks.” He draws his sunglasses over his eyes, even though it’s cloudy and dark outside. “I thought I could speak to you both while I’m out here.”
“I’m no longer the game, though,” I remind him, reaching for the door handle to get out. I made up my mind last night, and I need to stick to my guns on this decision.
“Then I guess you should probably get out now.” He searches the sea of bodies flowing out of the main doors. “If you’re really out of the game, then you need to get out of the car. Because what I’m about to say to Brooks won’t concern you anymore.”
I start to pull on the door handle but pause. I don’t know why I hesitate. I don’t want to ever relive last night. But I also don’t want relive feeling the lack of closure like I felt with Aura. And being here in front of the school, watching people go in and out of the building with their books and a purpose in life...
I stare at Stale until he looks at me. “Did you bring me here on purpose? To show me what I would miss out on?”
He grips the steering wheel. “That was part of the reason. But I really do want to introduce you to Brooks before you start working at the writing center in a couple of days. That way you’re not meeting out in the open.”
I watch the people swarming around the campus, going in and out of the building, hanging out under the trees, reading. They all look completely at peace with life. God, I want to feel that peace.
My hand falls from the handle as I slump back in the seat, hating myself for not being able to walk away, for wanting a better life so much I’m willing to risk my life altogether.
“There’s Brooks.” Stale straightens and releases the brake as a blond guy wearing a baseball hat, a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt exits the building.
He peers around before hurrying down the stairs. He opens the car door and hops into the backseat.
“You’re late.” Stale turns the wheel and drives out onto the road.
“Sorry. The lady who runs the writing center is super crazy about letting me walk out a second early.” He drops his books onto the floor and buckles his seatbelt before slumping low and tucking his head down.
Stale stops the car at a red light. “It’s fine. Ryler and I were just getting on the same page.” His gaze flicks between the two of us. “Ryler, this is Brooks. Brooks, this is Ryler.”
Brooks extends his arm over the console, and we shake hands.
“It’s nice to meet you, man,” he says, pulling his hat lower onto his head.
I give a quick glance in Stale’s direction and cock my brow. “Does he know I can’t speak?”
Stale nods. “I briefed him about your condition.”
“I’ve been working on my sign language, too,” Brooks adds. “But I’m afraid we’re probably going to have to use a pen and paper for a while.”
I’m not sure what to make of the situation. Stale said Brooks was the son of one of Elderman’s men, but he isn’t what I expected. He looks too much like a pretty boy with his blonde hair and nice clothes. Considering how rough-looking most of Elderman’s men look, it doesn’t make sense.
Stale glances back into the rearview mirror at Brooks. “So, what’s the update? You said you had some news in your text.”
“Yeah, my father finally mentioned something about a warehouse last night,” Brooks replies, leaning forward and resting his arms on the console. “I overheard him on a phone conversation talking about one in a town about an hour away from here.”
“Did he mention what town?” The traffic light shifts to green, and Stale drives forward, giving a quick glance behind him before changing lanes.
“No. And he wouldn’t, either,” Brooks says matter-of-factly. “He’s always careful when he talks on the phone, never mentioning specifics or names.”
Stale turns up the speed of the wiper blades as rain slams fiercely against the windshield. The roads are starting to flood, and the sidewalks are turning into streams. “Have you by chance searched the towns about an hour away from here?”
“Yeah. There’s about five.” He pauses. “But, honestly, I’m not sure the town would show up on a map.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because”—he reclines back in the seat and stares out the window—“I’ve heard my father talk about the place a couple of times, and I don’t know, the stuff that happens there... it just seems like, if it were a real town, they’d all be in jail.”
“They could be paying people off,” I sign to Stale. “Donny did that with some of the police in Vegas.”
“Yeah, that could very well be a possibility.” Stale scratches his head as he pulls the car to the end of my street. “I’m going to look into the cities within an hour of Laramie and see what I can find.” He parks the car a ways from my place, near the corner in front of a home. Then he rotates in his seat. “As for the two of you working together, I want you to be careful. No discussing anything important where anyone can hear you.”