Under the Altswood Sky (The Altswood Saga #2)

Chapter 22 - Harbinger

Chapter 22 - Harbinger

"I think I need to be there," Dad said, pacing the boardroom a few hours later.

My eyes turned so far back into my sockets that the pink I saw was probably my brain.

"Yes, the killer completely wouldn't notice that they're meeting with the Bottle Island police chief," I snarked.

Gabriel nudged my foot under the table with his, as if telling me to tone down the attitude. Dad had hardly noticed. He paused mid-stride, checking his watch, then resumed pacing.

It was nearly 7 o'clock.

We had been holed up in this room since the text exchange, brainstorming our tactics. Only Dad had left once to pick up fast food for what constituted as dinner and my meds from home.

My throat tasted like grease and chemicals. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety.

"Let's keep thinking," Dad said.

***

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this," Dad muttered, tuning the small device in his hands. "Your mother is going to give me the silent treatment in the afterlife as punishment."

The long and short hands ticked to 9 o'clock.

I lifted my arms as Dad attached the small radio transmitter to the waistband of my jeans. He tucked its long, thin microphone upwards, then jostled it around amidst my clothing until it was a barely noticeable lump at my hip.


"I can't believe I get to wear a wire," I said. "I feel like such a secret agent."

"Do I get one too?" Gabriel asked, fiddling with the leftover equipment.

"Since you're both insisting on going in," Dad muttered, "you have another job." He swivelled his eyes at the cupboard by the door.

Mystified, Gabriel moved to go open it.

"What am I looking at?"

I peered in too, scrutinising the high-visibility vests on the coat hangers and the batons that lined the inside of the cupboard. I saw nothing of importance, until my eye latched onto a box half-hidden behind a riot shield.

The box was fitted with a giant padlock, but it was also see-through, so we could quite clearly see the collection of handguns inside.

Gabriel turned around immediately.

"We're taking in a gun?" he exclaimed.

"I'll give you tasers too," Dad replied, as if that was the problem here.

"Dad," I said, forcing a laugh, "the chance that the killer will even show up—"

"Let me be clear," Dad said. His attention was focused on his laptop as he activated the transmitter, but his words were no less grave. "I am not endorsing civilian use of firearms. However, if the killer has a weapon, then I can't send you two in without one."

I could tell Gabriel was still taken aback at the prospect by the slightest crinkle of worry that appeared between his eyebrows.

"I know the theory of how to fire," I said. "I can hold onto it."


Dad looked at me sharply.

"I'm not going to make you hold a gun, Luca," Dad replied tightly. "I'm hoping you won't need it, but I can teach Gabriel now. You worry about protecting that wire."

I caught Gabriel's eye, some silent message passing between us, one that I wasn't certain how to verbalise.

It had all been wishful thinking and theorising up until this point. Now we had to ask—could we pull a trigger if it came down to it?