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

“I had an opportunity to take a look around.” Jar is particularly adept at throwing my words back at me when it suits her.

“So, you just waltzed into their yard, in the middle of the day, and broke into their house?”

“I do not know how to waltz.”

“I think you’re missing my point. The sun’s up, remember? Someone probably saw you.”

“No one saw.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“This is a small community. Someone would have come to check by now, or would have called the police and I would be in jail.”

“This is the barometer you’re using?” I say, and then something else dawns on me. “Wait. How long have you been there?”

“Inside? A little over twenty minutes.”

The Prices and I have been gone for around three quarters of an hour at this point. If you figure it took her around ten minutes (maybe even a bit more) to walk over and sneak onto the property, and another three to five to plan and prepare, she must have decided to do this as soon as the Winnebago pulled out.

I know the anger I’m feeling is actually worry that she’s undertaken this task without me being close in case anything goes wrong. I also know Jar is more than capable of pulling things like this off without me. I’m being overprotective, which—you don’t have to tell me—is not a good look. I guess what bugs me the most, other than my worry, is that we didn’t discuss things first. We usually do that before jumping into something like this.

Well, not always, but at least seventy-five percent of the time. The other twenty-five percent is usually me doing something stupid on my own. I’m just not used to being the one on the outside. Which, again, is a me problem.

I take a deep breath and say, “I’m guessing you’re almost done, right? You don’t have enough bugs to cover everything.”

As I mentioned, we’re short on bugs and I have the majority of our remaining stash with me. I left only a few behind in case something came up for which we might need one.

“I have enough for the important areas. And there is no need to rush. You can warn me when the family is on the way back. So, I am taking my time.”

Her words don’t make me feel any better.

“You have an exit plan?”

“That is a stupid question. Of course I do.”

“Do you want to go over it?”

A couple of annoyed breaths, then, “I will wait until dark and slip out the backyard.”

I don’t like the idea of her staying there that long, but it’s pretty much what I was going to do. And I highly doubt the Prices and I will be coming back before sunset.

“What about the backyard light?” I ask. We’re pretty sure it automatically comes on at night, which means it would light her up when she leaves.

“I have killed the power to it,” she says. “I made the breaker look like it has tripped. See? I will be all right. Now, if you stop wasting my time, we can both get back to work.”

We sign off, with promises to let each other know if we have any problems.

My chest is still tight with concern, which is weird. If any of the other operatives I work with on my day job were in the Prices’ house, I wouldn’t give it a second thought. And Jar is as good as they are, so it shouldn’t matter.

But it does. Because—

I close my eyes tight and try to avoid going where that thought was headed.

Hey, idiot, I tell myself. Get it in gear.

After a deep breath, I open my eyes, my head clearer than it was before. Wow, it’s been a while since I let my emotions control me that much.

I focus on the task at hand.

As I see it, I have three choices of what to do next: I can watch the picnic from here in the trees, I can go back to the Winnebago and take another nap, or I can try to move in closer and see if I can pick up more information.

I’ll give you one guess as to which I choose to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Staying in the woods, I skirt around the parking area and make my way toward the lake. The trickiest part is crossing the entrance road. I choose a spot thirty meters from where it meets the parking area, make sure no one is coming or going, and then sprint across.

The rest of the way is slow going due to the abundance of undergrowth and my desire to create as little noise as possible. Thankfully it’s spring, so it’s mostly new bushes that bend but do not break as I sweep by.

When I near the water, I head west until I’m just a few meters from where the trees end and the park begins, a short baseball toss away from the dock.

I pull out my binoculars again.

Evan has not moved from his spot, though the girl sitting with him has inched a little closer. They are facing the trees I’m hiding in, which allows me to get a good look at them. I’m pretty sure the girl is the same one who was in the car with Evan last night. She has long dark brown hair, brown skin, and a bright smile. She likes him. There’s no missing that. I get the sense he likes her, too, but doesn’t know what to do about it.

After I take a picture of the girl, I turn my attention to the others in the area.

Standing near the end of the dock are five teens—three guys and two girls. Two of the guys are half a head taller than the other kids and look a year or two older. Probably upperclassmen. They seem to be holding court, joking with each other and occasionally smiling at the girls. The third guy is trying to stay involved but he’s outmatched.

I’ve been there, buddy. It