The Box by Jeremy Brown (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📗

can’t stay for the show?”

“No, sorry. Maybe next time.”

“Tomorrow night?”

Connelly looked at Marie for confirmation that was a possibility.

She shrugged.

“College football’s on, starting at noon. Before that, even, with the pre-game stuff.”

“I’ll come in anyway, just in case.”

He looked at Nora, who had her bag slung and was moving toward the back door.

“I’ll see you then?” Connelly said.

“Maybe. Sorry, I have to go. I’m…sorry.”

She went down the hallway next to the bar and the light in there changed, then went back to normal when the door closed.

Connelly asked Marie, “Was it something I said?”

“Not you, hon.”

She looked past him toward the Romanians and her mouth slashed into the grim line again.

Connelly didn’t turn, playing oblivious.

“She seemed scared about something.”

“Yeah. She’s…she’s just dealing with a lot right now.”

“In case I don’t see her tomorrow, will you give her my number? You still have it, right?”

The smile threatened to come back, tugging at Marie’s lips in a sly way.

“I do. You got a little crush on her?”

“Naw, I just wanted to ask her some more questions about Minneapolis. I might head that way from here.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Seriously.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, then took a deep breath and visibly steeled herself before walking around the end of the bar toward the table of Romanians.

Connelly stayed facing the bar.

He could feel the blue eyes on his back.

Connelly texted Bruder’s current burner phone about the Romanians in Len’s without mentioning Romanians or Len’s.

Bruder and Rison were already at the motel, packing up, and Connelly figured it would be odd for them to come back to the restaurant just to get a look.

And sure enough, Bruder texted back: “No drama.”

Meaning, don’t bring any attention to yourself.

So Connelly stashed his guitar in the storage room off the kitchen and walked around town for a while, hoping to catch sight of Nora again, then watched a movie in his motel room before returning to Len’s just before the dinner rush to get set up.

He had a decent set, nothing anyone would video and post online, and made a few lifetime fans when he sang Happy Birthday to a couple of twins turning six.

No Romanians came in that he noticed, and neither did Nora.

He spent the rest of the evening watching college football and chatting with patrons and staff—Marie’s shift ended halfway through his set and she departed with an enthusiastic double thumbs-up—and carried his guitar back to the motel at eleven, the cold country air a nice slap in the face after the thick odors of fried food and beer.

He fell asleep wondering if he could find Nora’s farm from what she’d told him so far.

He believed he could—but would she be happy if he did?

When Kershaw went into room one at the motel at ten o’clock on Saturday morning, the first thing he did was unlock the adjoining door.

Connelly was there, leaning on a palm against the doorframe like he’d been standing there for an hour.

“How’d you get this room?” Connelly said.

“I told the guy my lucky number is one, and I’m hoping to get a job interview on Monday. He said I could have his job if I wanted it.”

“So you talked to Ed.”

“That’s him.”

Kershaw started moving clothes from his bag into the dresser.

“Any more luck with the woman? Nora?”

“Not yet. I’m playing Len’s again tonight, hopefully she’ll show up.”

“And the Romanians haven’t flagged you?”

“Just the usual stink-eye for somebody new. One of them really leaned into it yesterday, but I think it’s because I was chatting Nora up.”

Kershaw paused with a stack of folded t-shirts in his hands.

“Jealousy?”

“Not the vibe I got. More like she was terrified of him, and he didn’t want anybody messing with that dynamic.”

“Huh.”

Kershaw finished with the clothes and dropped a small leather bag next to the bathroom sink.

“You think you can sneak out to the car and get into the back seat without anybody seeing?”

“Sure. We got a mission?”

“Bruder wants me to check out some railroad overpass and bring you if I can. I looked at the satellite view, it’s outside of town, nobody around. So once we’re clear of here you should be able to sit up and look around.”

“I wish you weren’t so ashamed of our friendship.”

“Get used to it,” Kershaw said with a grin. “And I haven’t even heard you sing yet.”

Chapter Nine

Once they made the turn off the four-lane highway onto Pine they didn’t see another person or vehicle.

They found the overpass up on the berm and the tunnel beneath—impossible to miss them—and Kershaw took some photos and videos of his own, and some requested by Connelly, things they wanted to be able to reference as the guys who’d design the explosives.

They wore Department of Transportation hard hats and Kershaw had a clipboard in case anyone asked what the hell they were doing, but nobody even drove past.

Connelly kicked along the sides of the tunnel and frowned up at the concrete ceiling, apparently strong enough to support the passage of freight trains. He crouched down and looked at the middle of the road beneath the tunnel, seeing how the charges would work.

They chucked the hard hats into the trunk and got back into the car.

Connelly said, “What do you think?”

“If this is the road, it’ll work.”

“I agree,” Connelly said. “Especially the ‘if’ part.”

“I have a bet with Rison. One hundred American dollars, I’ll find out before you do.”

Connelly was amused.

“You? You just got here. I’m practically already sleeping with two women in town.”

“You and I have a vastly different definition of ‘practically’.”

“How are you gonna find out?”

Kershaw pulled a tight u-turn and got them pointed back toward town.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is it gets done. And that I get a hundred bucks from Rison when I get it done before you.”

“You’re on, buddy. Wait a minute, I’m not even in on the bet. How come I don’t get any of this cash?”

“Because you’re already getting all those tips from your rock shows. But man…John Cougar?”

“Ah, fuck all you guys.”

Connelly