The Belial Stone (The Belial Series #1)(19)

Frank looked over at her, his blue eyes radiating trust. His hound-dog face looked friendlier with his smile. “Thought you were asleep.”

Laney tried to smile in return. “Not yet. Just resting my eyes.”

She’d met Frank a few times when she'd been out with Rocky. He seemed a nice guy. And Rocky swore he and Marcos were great at their jobs. But she hadn’t seen them load any rocket launchers into the cars and she was now pretty convinced that's what it would take to stop Paul.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She nodded and turned to watch downtown Syracuse pass by. They moved through Armory Square and into the industrial district, old factories converted into stores or, in many cases, left abandoned.

After a glance to make sure Marcos was still following, she turned to stare out the window, resting her chin on her hand. Was this really happening? It felt like this morning was a dream. It was too surreal. People didn’t move that fast. And they certainly didn’t rebound from gunshots or stabbings that quickly. How had that man survived?

And his fighting skills. They were incredible. Laney had been training since she was a child. And while most people might look at her petite size and figure she wouldn’t put up much of a fight, they’d be wrong. Dead wrong. She knew without a trace of conceit that she was good. Really good.

But that man had been toying with her. And as much as she hated to admit it, that, more than anything, terrified her. She had trained so hard because she knew what it felt like to be a victim, to be helpless.

She absentmindedly brushed her hand over the spot where her Uncle David had broken her arm when she was a child. She had promised herself once she had gotten out of his house that she would never feel that powerless again. Today, she had come close. And she didn’t like it.

“It’s right around the corner here,” Frank said as they drove past Fowler High School. She knew the neighborhood. The zoo was just up the street. She, Kati, and Max had been there too many times to count.

After turning off Geddes and taking another right, he pulled in the drive of a small house that backed onto the high school. “Home sweet home.”

Laney looked out the window. “That is one sad little house.”

Pale grey paint chipped off the siding and a sagging porch ran the length of the front of the house. The windows all had the blinds pulled down. She glanced down the block. Sad as the house was, the rest of the houses on the block were no less depressing.

Frank grinned. “They always are. But it’s safe, and hopefully we’ll only have to keep you here for a little while. Rocky’ll track down that * in no time. Let’s get inside, okay?”

She nodded and got out of the car, fingering the flash drive in her pocket. She’d transferred it to her pocket when she’d gotten changed at the station. This couldn’t all be related to Drew’s file, could it?

Marcos had pulled up in front of the house and stood surveying the neighborhood. He nodded at Laney before turning to Frank. “I’m going to check around back.”

Laney trailed Frank to the front door, which didn’t look like it could keep out a seven-year-old. He unlocked it and Laney followed him in. By some miracle of modern decoration, the interior managed to be more depressing than the exterior. The walls, once white, were now a smoky yellow and the one piece of furniture, a plaid red couch, had stuffing spilling from it. And she was pretty sure something was rustling underneath the back corner.

Laney looked over at Frank with raised eyebrows.

He shrugged. “Like I said, hopefully we won’t be here for too long.” He nodded towards the couch where a duffel bag sat. “Rocky had a female officer gather up some clothes for you. I’m going to be outside. Yell if you need anything."

Laney glanced at the bag, shaking it to make sure no guests had decided to go for a ride. “Did she include my laptop?”

“Yeah, the techs went over it and said there was no blood, so they didn’t need it.”

She nodded. Good, no blood. I always hate a laptop with blood on it.

After getting changed into her own clothes, in a bathroom where she tried not to touch anything, she booted up the laptop in the kitchen. Placing it on the kitchen table, aka an old card table, she realized this room was relatively clean. At least nothing seemed to be scurrying about.

The cabinet doors were original, but all still hung upright, and the linoleum counter wasn’t too bad. The old beat-up card table took up most of the room, and two folding chairs provided the only places to sit.

A flash pulled her eyes back to the laptop. What the hell? Her screen was pixilating from the exterior. It looked as if it was being eaten from the outside in.

“No, no, no.” She sat and pulled the laptop over to her. Hitting the power button, she cursed. Not responding. She tried an automatic shut down. No luck. She flipped it over to pull out the battery. But it was too late. The virus had worked its way through the whole system.

“Shit,” she yelled as her screen went blank except for the cursor, which just blinked at her.

She sat back in the chair and stared at the screen, stunned. She’d used this laptop this morning without any problems.

Her assailant’s face flashed through her mind. Could he have done this? She thought back. She’d heard the scratching at the door, which must have been when he’d entered the house.