Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom (The Future Next Door Book 1) by Brian Olsen

Author:Brian Olsen [Olsen, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2013-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Dakota strategizing

Saturday afternoon, Dakota was sitting up in her bed, her back resting against the brick wall that divided her room from Mark’s. The wall froze her bedroom in the winter, but she loved the look of it too much to cover it with drywall. Caitlin was lying with her head in Dakota’s lap, while Dakota stroked her hair. Mark was seated at the other end of the bed, Caitlin’s legs draped over his.

The night before, Dakota and Mark had tried to wait up, hoping to catch Alan and Caitlin when they got home, but alcohol and exhaustion had gotten the better of them. It was early in the morning when Dakota had been awoken by Caitlin climbing into bed with her. There was a brief moment of severe ambivalence about the new direction she thought their friendship was about to take before she realized Caitlin was crying.

She tried to get her roommate to tell her what was wrong, but Caitlin was too upset to talk. Dakota just held her. After a few moments she could hear Alan coming up the stairs, and it sounded as if he was crying as well. She heard another voice she didn’t recognize consoling him, and then both were silenced as she heard Alan’s bedroom door close.

After a few minutes of Caitlin’s tears, Mark had knocked on the door. He crept in and lay down with them, joining Dakota in comforting the crying girl. Eventually Caitlin was able to tell them, in fits and starts, what had happened at Derek’s party. The more she spoke, the more her sobs quieted. Mark eased himself down to the far end of the bed to give Caitlin more room, and as she finished telling them about her horrible night she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Caitlin must have been exhausted. They had stayed at the party late, then been kept there by the police for a few hours more. Pete had finally convinced the investigating officer to let them go home, and a patrol car had driven all three back to Fort Greene. That had been well after sunrise. In the couple of hours since Caitlin had finally fallen asleep, Dakota and Mark had sat in silence, alone with their separate thoughts, not wanting to move and risk waking her.

Dakota had plenty to think about. Caitlin’s description of Marisol’s face, her blank expression, sounded so much like Pickle’s – there had to be a connection. Would Pickle have tried to kill them if they hadn’t left? She thought about how she had left Mark alone with the strange woman and got a chill. Were Muffin and Cookie lying dead on Pickle’s floor?

And those things Marisol had said about assets, tangible and intangible, toxic, being converted. Dakota understood all the terms, but couldn’t figure out what they meant in this context. Or did they mean anything at all? The woman was deranged, she could have just been regurgitating words she had picked up at AmSyn.

She heard a creak as her bedroom door was pushed open.

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