Author's Preface
S he sat there, rimmed in the evening sunlight, legs crossed on the bare boards under her. Paper, scissors, a few crayons in her favorite colors. Busily working. Her long hair, now tangled and windblown since the morning brush-out.
“Daddy, do fish have ears?”
The porch chair Kellen sat in rocked a little. He looked up and squinted at the sunset. Wordlessly, he flipped the handgun in his lap and began cleaning the other side of the exposed barrel. “Yeah. They don’t look like yours, though.”
Silence.
When he looked up, she was gone. Nothing but her paper drawing left behind.
Kellen’s heart began pounding. He might have stood up, might have heard the weapon clatter to the floor as he did. But all he could see now was an image his imagination had conjured many, many times in multiple different ways.
That little girl, a stranger’s arm fully immobilizing her arms and torso. Her kicking legs. Attempts to scream as the stranger covered her mouth with his hand.
Kellen startled awake. Darkness, orangey yellow from the streetlights outside filtering in through the window. Drenched in his own sweat. His heartbeat in his throat.
Kellen pulled himself slowly upright on the bed. For a long moment, he sat there silent in the darkness, staring at the dim shapes in the kitchenette across from him.
He had left her there. That little girl in that back dressing room in Exotix. What the hell was a child doing in a place like that?
Are they trafficking kids?
Bile welled up in Kellen’s throat. He lifted the back of his hand to his lips and tried to inhale. If Alexei had any part in it, Kellen would make sure he went down for it—deal or no deal.
Why the hell was a ringleader sleeping around for money?
It made no sense. Why would someone in power want a deal from the police? Allow his body to be bought with cash?
June. June was that little girl’s name.
No. Kellen’s hand slipped flat against his forehead. No, he was getting confused between dreams and reality. He had dreamed up that name. The dreams weren’t real.
What if they were?
What if, all these years, every single one of them had been real?
Kellen kicked off his blanket and got up. Wolf immediately rolled over on the bedspread, then hopped off and followed him to the bathroom.
Cold water. Kellen cupped his hands under the sink faucet and splashed water across his face and neck. For several seconds, he stood frozen, leaned over the sink, staring at his own dripping face in the mirror.
His eyes lowered and centered on the lines of his mouth.
That kiss.
He didn’t remember anything about it except that it had felt wet. And very soft.
“God, people are so disgusting,” Kellen muttered, abruptly reaching for the toothbrush standing in a cup near the mirror. He blasted it under the sink faucet for a few seconds, then stuck it in his mouth and started scrubbing for the second time that night.
He had done it to protect Kellen.
But he could’ve found a better way.
A more sanitary way.
Kellen spat in the sink. “Fucking nasty.” He filled the cup with water and thoroughly rinsed his mouth. Spat again. “Fuck.”
He passed his hand across his mouth, wiping water from his lips. And for a moment, his eyes again locked with those in the mirror. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, I need to think.”
The sidewalk following Fairview Street was almost too poorly lit to safely run on at a little past 5 AM. Almost.
Jaw set, eyes watching the dark sidewalk in front of him, Kellen silently kept up with the animal running beside him.
Wolf’s ears were pinned back, hearing focused on her person. Maybe it was unease about her surroundings that made her do that. Or maybe she was embarrassed about her person who was violating leash laws because he couldn’t seem to keep the braided leather out of his own way.
“Eastland?”
“How the fuck did he know my name?” Kellen came to an abrupt halt on the corner, hands finding his hips. He paced a semi-circle, then rounded off to the light post protruding from the sidewalk. He punched the crosswalk button with a sweaty knuckle.
Sweat.
Kellen lifted the front of his dark sleeveless hoodie off his chest and lightly fanned the fabric. Lila had never liked Florida’s heat, or the sweltering humidity in the Everglades.
He hacked my phone, Kellen thought. What if he specifically hacked my phone? What if he accessed a lot more than my location?
A blind person, hacking?
But he wasn’t really blind, was he?
Or was he?
He had physically walked into Kellen twice, and the second time, no one was in a mood to put on airs.
He had touched that man’s wrists with the barrel of the gun before firing. He could’ve just aimed and shot—he wouldn’t have been spattered so badly. Unless he was actually blind.
And then, in that back room—his reaction to Kellen being there. Surprise, immediate defensiveness. The demand for identification. And he had behaved so organically, Kellen almost believed it.
Why would he even pretend to be blind?
“Fuck, I don’t know,” Kellen muttered under his breath. He jerked on his hoodie drawstrings and started across the road, his dog immediately following.
There was no other possible way he could’ve gotten Kellen’s name.
He had said it strangely— “Eastland?” —with an inflection. Like it was a question. Like he wasn’t sure.
But how would he know without being sure?
“ Don’t say anything. Just do what I tell you,” he had said in the neon-lit parking lot, standing beside Kellen’s rental car.
“Take out your phone. Open your app store.”
Fucking crazy. The audacity.
“The app’s name is Tracks. The icon is an orange paw print.”
Kellen had almost snapped. Demanded an explanation for the malware he had found on his phone, exactly how much data had been accessed by it, and how in the world this boy now had the nerve to ask him to download an entire app. But then he had seen the app description. The numerous reviews left by real-sounding pet owners. Google’s semi-trustworthy verification of it. “This is the monitoring side of a pet tracking sys―”
“Don’t say anything. Tell me when you have it downloaded.”
The way he had lifted his wrist to Kellen’s phone, touched his watch-like device to it until the two connected and a red dot appeared on the map on Kellen’s screen.
“ 3 PM tomorrow. Find me. Bring backup. Don’t shoot the containers.”
Elevate Fitness had a location on the next corner. Kellen slowed to survey the large lit windows and failed to notice Wolf falling a few paces behind. Something was crossing Kellen’s mind about cities and their conveniences when he noticed someone close to the sidewalk just ahead.
“Oh my gosh, you’re kidding!” The stranger seemed to animate the second Kellen noticed him. He stepped over the thin grass barrier between the sidewalk and the parking lot he was standing in, then crouched down on the concrete in front of Kellen. “No way, you look just like my Rosie!”
It took Kellen four more seconds of confusion to realize the stranger was addressing his dog. His lips parted, and he cast a hesitant glance backward at Wolf.
“He? She?” The stranger seemed to figure out Wolf was not going to approach him. He straightened partly and took a step closer.
Kellen made an awkward, half-hearted gesture with his hand. “It’s a girl.”
“Oh my gosh, she’s beautiful. Hey, girlie!” He advanced farther.
“She’s not friendly,” Kellen warned, half a second before Wolf lifted her lip and let out a low growl.
“She looks just like my Rosie.” The man finally seemed to realize that Wolf did not want to be petted, and he straightened fully. “Is she a border collie mix? My Rosie is.”
“I don’t know what she is,” Kellen murmured, glancing again at his dog, who had once been a skeletal wanderer in the Florida wilderness.
“Aw. So adorable. She looks like a border collie. You know, they have DNA tests for dogs if you ever want to find out.”
“Are you serious?” Kellen muttered through a grimace. He started past the stranger without another word, and Wolf abruptly followed.
“You should take a DNA test,” Lila had said more than a few times. The way she perched her chin on Kellen’s shoulder one of those random evenings she brought it up. “You could be part Japanese. Or Filipino. Or Guatemalan. Or—Aztec!”
Or I could be nothing.