“Does Lynn know about it?” I asked, surveying the place in the darkness. We were walking by the lights of our phones, which were woefully inadequate in the gloom. We had driven for about two hours to get here, leaving the city far behind.
“Again,” she said, annoyance clear in her tone, “why does that matter?”
“Never mind,” I muttered.
Then we stepped into a clearing and I saw an overgrown path to the garage that she had been looking for. I followed as she let herself into the garage with a series of four different keys in four dead bolts. I didn’t fail to notice that the place, although it looked old and unkempt, was as safe as Fort Knox. She had cameras on every corner. I could see the tiny green and red lights that showed they were operational. Then it hit me. She cared about this place.
“I just need to get the Jeep for Lynn,” she said. “And the cash. And some weapons.”
My head shot up at that one. “Weapons for what?”
“Would you prefer that I just throw my purse at Megan when she finally shows up?” she asked.
Finally, the door opened, and we walked into the garage. A pristine older Jeep sat parked inside. It was obviously taken care of. Shelly got inside and hit a button to open the garage door. Then she turned the key of the Jeep and backed it out of its spot.
“This one doesn’t have navigation. They should be fine in it,” she said more to herself than to me as she climbed back out and shut the door.
“Is it yours?” I asked.
“Who else’s might it be?” she asked absently. She was obviously going through a to-do list in her head because she paid me almost no attention as she walked to a door at the back of the garage and let he
rself inside, again going through a series of locks on the way.
She went into the small room. I followed, but I stopped short in the doorway. It looked like an armory. Guns, knives, and other weapons hung on every wall.
“Do you know how to use these?” I asked.
“Why else would I have them?” she tossed back.
Since she was Shelly, and I felt pretty confident that she did know how to use every last one of them, I didn’t even answer. She was Shelly.
“Are they legal?”
She smirked at me from over her shoulder. “Where would be the fun in that?”
She moved a false front from one of the walls, and I saw a safe. Shelly entered the code, and the door swung open. She began to remove stacks of cash from inside, stacking them on the table in front of her.
“Shelly…” I said hesitantly.
“Hmm?” she replied without looking up. She counted to herself, but I couldn’t hear her.
“Where did you get all this cash?”
“Don’t worry, big guy,” she said, patting my shoulder as she walked by me. “It’s all mine.”
“Where did it come from?” I asked, still in awe as I looked around the room.
“Here and there,” she replied flippantly. She closed the safe and locked it back, then started to fill a black bag she’d just picked up. In a second bag, she loaded firearms. Enough firearms to protect a whole city.
“Do you need all that?”
“Better to be over-prepared,” she said, still engrossed in her task.
I needed to tell her that I couldn’t let her take all that with her. “Shelly—”
But she cut me off. “These aren’t for me,” she said.
“Who are they for?”