Eye of the Sh*t Storm Jackson Ford (detective books to read txt) 📖

Right then, it’s like the air gets thicker. Like the feeling you get right before a thunderstorm, when the whole world goes still.

The Bullmastiff pup, showing his teeth. And why wouldn’t he? This kid might not be a tiny psychopath, but who knows what he’s been through before today?

Which, of course, doesn’t stop a cold, greasy sweat from breaking out on my forehead.

I don’t always think things through. But I’ve been trying really hard lately – trying to make the right decision, not just the first one that pops into my head. So: what’s the right thing to do here?

Keep this kid safe. Keep him out of harm’s way. No matter how you look at it, that’s the responsible choice.

The problem is, he’s not safe here, and he’s not safe with China Shop. So: what’s left?

Which is when I say something that I know I’m going to regret, even before the words leave my mouth.

“Leo, listen to me,” I say quietly. “Your dad can’t get back in here.”

“Why not? I can stop the ’lectricity if—”

“But how will you know he’s out there?”

“I got a phone.”

“But… but, Leo, there’s no signal here. Not while your electricity’s on.”

He blinks at me, as if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

I’m guessing he knows he has the ability to kill people – he can control his electricity, after all. But he’s scared, and he’s not thinking. He didn’t think about how his dad would get back inside. He didn’t think about the cops arriving. And he didn’t think about the other people in the building, or the ones who came to check it out.

He looks down at the ground.

“I think I did a bad thing,” he mumbles.

“Oh, hey,” I say, reaching out to touch him, stopping myself just in time.

The only thought I can hold my head is: get him the fuck out of here. Get him somewhere safe.

“Leo… if you come with me, I promise I’ll get you to your dad.”

It’s a long time before he answers. When he does, there’s a different look in his eyes. A hard look. A look you shouldn’t see on someone his age.

“If you’re helping the Zigzag Man,” he says, “I’ll zap you.”

“… I know.”

“Or if you make me do anything I don’t wanna.”

“Got it.”

Slowly, I reach out for his hand, stopping just short. He hesitates for a few seconds, then takes it. His skin is warm, and very dry.

Despite my heart pounding hard in my chest, I manage a smile – and it feels like a genuine one this time. I give his hand a squeeze, then get to my feet, gently pulling him with me.

OK. Step one complete. Earn the trust of the little boy who could kill me instantly whenever he chooses. Time for step two.

“Hey, Leo,” I say. “Do you like hide and seek?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” I give his hand a squeeze. “Come on.”

TWELVETeagan

The scariest part of exiting the Big Green Storage building isn’t the cops. It isn’t the fact that I’m going AWOL on my team.

It’s Leo.

I’m not talking about his ability – he’s actually stopped discharging electricity into the building now, or at least, we’re inside his safety radius. It’s how he slips in quietly behind me as we head for the exit, moving quickly and quietly, his sneakers barely audible on the scuffed floor. He doesn’t make a peep. Kids aren’t usually this obedient, or this careful.

What kind of life has he been living, that he knows how to move this quietly?

We’re just coming up the stairs to ground level, our way lit by the flashlight on my phone. The nausea and headache subsided a little when I was speaking to Leo, but now they’re back with a vengeance. I make myself focus on putting one foot in front of the other, then doing it again, and again.

If I remember right, the south-west wall of the building is closest to the edge of the lot – no more than a few feet of open concrete, which is probably where they stash the dumpsters. Then, a tall chain link fence. From the brief look I got before I came in here, the land beyond the fence is undeveloped. Wide open. There won’t be much cover – and it’s broad daylight out there, which means I’m going to have to time this very carefully.

Shit. There’s a thought. I’m currently carrying two things that will allow Reggie to track me – my comms earpiece, and my phone. Both government issue, with built-in scramblers. Encryption. Whatever the fuck it’s called. Reggie controls them, which means she could definitely track me if she wanted, even if they were turned off. I winkle out the earpiece, using my PK to crunch its internals to pieces, doing it before I can second-guess myself.

I glance down at my phone – shit, it’s only 3 p.m.? I feel like I’ve been here for hours. I shake it off, wrap my PK around the internals, getting ready to do to them what I did to my earpiece. I pause for a second, trying to figure out if there’s any way to avoid doing this.

And that’s enough to make me think of Waco again. Of the cells and the tests, the knowledge that I might never get out of there. That my family was dead, and no one was coming to rescue me.

I won’t subject Leo to that. Not gonna happen.

This feels wrong. I’ve never turned my back on the team – not once, not ever. No matter how much we argue, or whatever crazy shit we get into, we’ve always been together. Doing this feels horrible. Sickening. It’s impossible not to hear Reggie’s calm voice, breaking down a problem, analysing it as she sips chamomile. Annie’s smile, back when it actually existed. Africa’s laugh, his giant hands pulling me into a bear hug. Am I really doing this?

“Sorry, Reggie,” I mutter. The phone goes dead as I snap a couple of key chips