The Chaos Kind (John Rain #11)(46)

The saving grace, of course, was Marvin.

She had never thought of herself as particularly bold in bed, but there was something he brought out in her that she loved to indulge. She didn’t know what caused it. She was attracted to him, no doubt—had been since the first time she’d seen him—but the alchemy had more to do with the effect she had on him. There were times he would look at her, and there was something so primally . . . hungry in his eyes, so beyond his control, that it thrilled her, and filled her with a confidence she’d never known with anyone else.

And he was so good with Dash. So good for him. Watching him teach Dash how to use tools, how to help build their house, had sometimes moved her so much that she’d had to look away and wipe her eyes. And of course Marvin had taught her, too, and she’d helped out, as well. Which was fun and gratifying. But it was nothing compared to watching the two of them together, experiencing the bond they had. And not just for how much it did for Dash. For what it meant to Marvin, too. She knew the horrible things he had done in the past. She was glad he was different now, glad he was done with that part of himself. With everything about that life. These days, he sometimes felt to her like a giant bear who harbored no ill will toward anyone, and wanted no more than to be left alone.

But God help anyone who might try to hurt his cub. And she had no problem with that. No problem at all.

Her phone beeped. She glanced at it, expecting a text from Dash. Instead, it was an alert from the camera network she had installed around the house.

She was surprised. She’d tested the system, of course, but its AI had been trained to ignore her face, Dash’s, and Marvin’s, and it had never picked up anything else.

She tapped in her passcode. In the dying light, she saw a man in a UPS uniform standing at the gate to the driveway, holding a package, looking at the house. He checked a tablet as though confirming an address. Behind him was the familiar brown truck. It all looked completely normal. Except that the house was owned by a corporate front a lawyer had helped them set up, and she used the school to receive all their mail and packages. You didn’t have to be former NSA to understand that the first rule of privacy was to ruthlessly separate your residence from your mailing address.

The man looked around. Anyone who might have been watching would think he was just trying to figure out how to get to the house to drop off the package. But it was doubtful anyone was watching. The property was on five acres at the end of a cul-de-sac. There were only two other driveways, each of which led to houses set back as far as theirs. The rest of the area was surrounded by woods.

Alongside their driveway was a sign declaring LIBERTY TOWNSHIP CRIME WATCH IN EFFECT. The UPS guy put out a hand and leaned against it, as though trying to see through the trees to the house. Then he shrugged, went back to his truck, and drove away.

Evie realized her heart was beating hard. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

She panned the camera and zoomed in on the back of the sign. There was something attached to it. She zoomed more and saw it was a small camera, probably with a magnetic mount.

It all came flooding back. Delgado, the syringe, the back of the van. His hands on her. His smell. The things he said as he—

He’s dead, she thought, the words mantra-familiar. You shot him. Marvin split his head with that hatchet. He’s dead.

She closed her eyes and for a moment just breathed. Okay.

She reversed the footage. There—the truck license plate. If she’d still been at NSA, she could have run it down in thirty seconds. And tracked the truck’s movements, as well. She suddenly felt helpless.

She thought of Marvin. He’d been gone for days, working on a construction site near Pittsburgh. He didn’t travel often, but there were crews who would bring him in for jobs involving built-in shelving, which was one of his specialties. Some had in return lent a hand when Marvin had built the house. She knew he wasn’t mixed up with the government anymore. She’d never even worried about it.

Although this time . . . he’d seemed not himself when he left. Stressed, somehow. Distracted. Still, they’d FaceTimed every night since then, and he’d seemed fine. Was he, though? Maybe she’d been trying to convince herself.

She tried to tell herself it was nothing. Just a coincidence. Marvin was fine, the camera on the sign was just a way for UPS to know when someone was home, so they could come back later and deliver a package that had been sent to the wrong address . . .

Her heart started pounding again, and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a minute, trying to calm down. It had been years. She’d really believed it was done.

A text message popped up. Dash. Practice is over. Should I come up? Or meet at the car?

The parking lot was well lit and there would be lots of people there. Parents waiting for their kids. Kids finishing soccer practice, cross-country practice, other after-school activities. But she was suddenly frightened.

Meet me up here? she texted back.

Sure. Be there in five.

She texted back a thumbs-up emoji. Though she felt anything but.

What were they going to do? She was afraid to go home. She hated to admit it. But she was afraid.

She FaceTimed Marvin. He didn’t pick up.

Shit.

She suddenly wished they had Find My Friends or some other cellphone tracking app enabled. But she knew too much about how exploitable those features were.

She texted him. Hey. I’m worried about something and I’m afraid to go home. Can you text or FT me right away?