“I will.”
Minutes later and exiting the highway, D decelerated as we approached a large parcel of land which, according to Google Maps, had a house in the center of a massive spread of corn fields.
Unlike other homesteads in the area, this one had an electric fence around the perimeter and a large gate that had more cameras on it than a Hollywood star on the red carpet. The defenses were more fitting for government-owned property than private land.
When we pulled up in front, Dead To Me tapped the buzzer.
“Still no answer from Dagda,” Conor muttered.
“State your business,” a crisp voice demanded on the intercom.
“Troy? It’s Dead To Me.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“We need to speak with you.”
“Who’s we?”
“Lodestar’s with me, plus her man.”
“That bitch has a man?” Troy hooted. “Now I really believe today is doomsday.”
Though I huffed under my breath, I stayed silent.
“She does, but we’ve come because we think you’re in danger.”
Troy snorted. “Ain’t we always?”
“No. This is different. Let me in, Troy. We’re on the same side.”
“Doubt it. Look, this ain’t a good time.”
Before she could give us more attitude, I leaned forward so I could project my voice, snapping, “It’s about Jorgmundgander, Troy.”
There was dead silence, then the gates pulled inward.
That boded well.
The moment we were on the driveway, the gates closed behind us. Dead To Me didn’t set off until the latch clicked and the area was secured. As we drove toward the house, Conor kept trying Dagda, but that he’d been trying for ten minutes fucking straight was a portent we didn’t exactly need right now.
Disquieted, I twisted around, scanning the land for only God knew what. For as far as the eye could see, however, the remnants of corn season laced the horizon.
That meant the corn rows provided no shelter for anyone sneaking around, but it also gave us no cover from the highway, which only amped up my agitation.
I was always good under pressure, but this was hitting differently.
I didn’t know if that was becauseIwas different or what, but if I’d had a gun in my hand instead of in a holster, I’d have a hair trigger.
When we made it down the ridiculously long driveway, it was with relief we pulled up outside the house.
It was a regular farmhouse—to laymen’s eyes. But the structure was clearly reinforced with security protocols that didn’t belong on farmland.
More CCTV and, undoubtedly, a ton of other measures that weren’t visible to the eye—heat sensors, pressure monitors, and the like kept it locked up nice and tight.
The farmhouse was also surrounded by trees, deciduous, which made me reach for my weapon when we were on the ground.
Dead To Me peered at the trees too, and that was when I saw it—a glint.