Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

can be locked. This will allow us to carry stuff in the back without anyone knowing what’s there. I had to take the cover off to fit the motorbike, hence the reason for trip number two.

After Kyle and one of his fellow salesmen help me get it back on, I return to Walmart.

I’m not the only one who has completed their task this afternoon.

Jar has lined up two rental places for us to look at.

The first is a farmhouse about three miles outside the city. The farmland around the place is apparently owned by a corporation that has acquired many other farms in the area. The death of the family farm by big business is a pattern that’s been happening all across America for decades now.

The house sits back from the road a good two hundred meters, and is reached via an isthmus-like driveway, lined on either side by recently planted fields.

The house is half hidden behind a small copse of trees. It’s a one-story place with a basement. About fifty meters behind the house is a faded white barn. Jar tells me the owners are using it for storage so it’s not part of the rental deal.

Jar retrieves a key that’s hidden in a pot on the side of the house, and we take a look through the interior. Someone renovated the place ten or fifteen years ago so it’s more modern than I expected. It has three bedrooms, none particularly large; two bathrooms; a living room/dining room combo; and a decent-sized kitchen. It’s partially furnished, which is good since we forgot to bring our furniture with us on vacation.

I like the anonymity of the place. No neighbors in sight, and little chance someone could sneak up on us without us knowing. But it is farther from town than I would like it to be.

We head to the second place, where we’re met by the property manager, Mr. Hansen. The home is back within city limits and only five blocks from the Prices’ house. That fact alone is very appealing.

The downside? It’s one half of a duplex, and from the toys strewn across the shared front yard, the other half is home to a family with more than one child. That could be a problem. While children don’t hold a monopoly on curiosity, they are more likely to act upon it. I am not a fan of prying eyes.

I’m also leery about sharing a wall. In part because I don’t want to be jolted awake by voices from the other side, but mostly because I don’t want anyone listening in on our conversations.

My fears are placated by our potential landlord while he gives us a tour of the inside.

“The builder put extra insulation between the units,” he explains when we enter the bedroom that shares a wall with the neighbor. He pats it. “They’re also double thick. Someone could be yelling on the other side and you’d never know it.”

I’m not sure I completely buy that, but I do like that the barrier is not a traditional wall. Besides, this room and a bathroom are the only rooms that butt up against the other half of the duplex. There’s another bedroom and bathroom we can use to avoid this end of the house entirely.

We tell Hansen we’ll get back to him and we return to the Travato.

“Well?” Jar asks. “Which do you think we should take?”

“I’m kind of thinking we should take both.”

She cocks her head, an eyebrow raised.

Whoa. I’ve actually surprised her. That doesn’t happen often.

“Hear me out,” I say. “The duplex is close but not too close to Evan’s house, so it’s perfect for keeping an eye on things. But the Travato won’t fit in the driveway, so we’d have to park it on the street. I don’t like that idea. The farmhouse is too far away for us to be going to and from all the time, but it would be a good place to hide out if the need arises. And it has plenty of room for the Travato.”

She considers my explanation and then nods. “I’ll call the landlords.”

I’m guessing the rental market is a bit depressed at the moment, because both landlords are eager to get us into the places.

We go by both of their offices and fill out the paperwork. Like I said, our aliases are solid, with excellent histories that will make us look like dream tenants. I briefly consider using a different ID than I did when buying the truck but decide against it. Better to be known around town by one name than two.

Our credit checks go as expected, and soon enough each landlord whips out a lease for us to sign. Both originally ask for a year but we talk them into six months. Our cover is that we’re freelance web designers who work from home, and are trying out the area to see if it’s someplace we’d like to settle long term.

Am I going to pay six months’ rent on each? Not unless we somehow end up here a lot longer than I expect. But we will be sacrificing our deposit.

In case you’re wondering how we can afford all this, Jar and I make good money. I mean, really good. It also helps that my day-to-day expenses aren’t that high, and Jar’s are next to zero. In my case, I’ve been doing my day job for about a decade now and I have a lot saved up. So, I have no problem spending a little cash to help someone in need. It’s a solid investment as far as I’m concerned.

Hansen, the duplex owner, says that since the place hasn’t been used for a couple of months, he wants to tidy it up before handing over the keys. He tells us to come back tomorrow afternoon, with a cashier’s check for first month’s rent and the security deposit. Even though we also won’t be able to pay Mrs. Turner, the property manager of the farmhouse, until tomorrow,