The Taken Ones: A Novel (Steinbeck and Reed) by Jess Lourey

Author:Jess Lourey [Lourey, Jess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

oatmeal

bananas

juice

basket

beautiful

blonde

hair

she is so pretty

Small, one-of-everything stores used to be the heart of a town. Not any longer. Most of the neighborhood shops had dried up and disappeared, replaced with great, impersonal box stores or, even worse, grocery delivery where you didn’t need to exchange so much as a glance with the person who brought you the food you needed to survive.

He thought that disconnect might be at the root of what was wrong with the world.

The box stores had been a good development for him, of course. Once they arrived, it meant he didn’t have to drive so far to shop anonymously for female supplies. But on the rare occasions when he found himself in a local market, he felt a stab of righteous grief for an imagined better time.

He watched Setzland drugstore across the street as he shopped. Comstock and the two BCA agents had gone upstairs to Rita Larsen’s apartment. He congratulated himself on placing the tracker on Van’s car, both her blue Toyota RAV4 and the silver Impala she checked out from work. It was shockingly easy to order the tiny black GPS with the magnetic strip, park next to someone, drop your keys, stick the tracker in a wheel well, grab your keys, and be on your way.

He knew her first name because the Black agent had hollered it at her by the gravesite. He had yet to discover her last name. The BCA website listed only the upper administration. No agents. Made sense, but it meant he didn’t know her position or her experience level.

He did know where she worked, where she lived, and where she was every moment of the day.

He returned the metallic blue canister of Ajax to the shelf and selected a gold tube of Bar Keepers Friend. He pretended to read the label. The old lady at the till had smiled at him when he’d walked in. Wished him a good morning. When she asked if he needed help finding anything, he’d said, “No, thank you.” That would buy him five or ten minutes until she would start nosing around. She reminded him of his mother. They were the same age, but that wasn’t it. In the attitude—that’s where they were twins. Criticizing, disrupting your ability to think, a presence that couldn’t sit still and had nothing to contribute.

The trio had stopped by a townhome before visiting Rita Larsen. There’d been no cover at the first stop, so he’d kept driving past when they parked. He’d recorded the address and done a reverse search on his phone once he was out of sight. The townhome belonged to Theresa Kind.

They’d identified the body.

He didn’t like the way that made him feel, like he’d swallowed something not quite dead. He’d known they’d figure out who she was. He just hadn’t known they’d do it so fast. Not that it changed anything. He’d left no evidence behind. Nothing they could trace to him. Still, he found himself gripping the basket’s plastic handle so tightly that it cut into his palms.

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