Wednesday evening, as promised, Lane set out for Fuel from her office, keeping an eye on the clock. She would be, for once, tactfully late. Everything about this situation screamed wrong. And yet, she had approached Johnny (and heavens, that was the most generic of names) initially. An offer of help was not typical to her, not enough that someone might use it to lure her in. She had been subtle in her recent investigations to all unknown persons but Isaac--whose claims of being done with her group (they had, she realized, become her group) were as likely true as they were false--and the Strigha connected to Noemi’s book.
Just as likely to target her were the Ocularis, after seeing her storm into their club accompanied by a blood drenched vampire, or any of the humans she had exposed in her career.
It was why she chose to drive from the office, rather than walk and risk being dragged off the street. She parked close by--not far enough that she couldn’t make it to her car in a hurry, but not close enough that her vehicle could be spotted from the café.
She exited her car and fed the meter. Two hours should do it. If it took longer, well, then Johnny needed more expert help than she could provide.
Lane scanned the café. No sweater. A ping sounded from her phone.
Alright, then. She took a window seat and waited.
Hello, I am checking to make sure you are alright and still on your way. Keep me informed.
There was no reply. A sense of wrongness settled in her stomach. He would not be coming. And to what end? She would have to warn both Noemi and Aletta, as well as her contact who had provided the security footage.
Blue eyes flicked from side to side as she exited the coffee shop, as if to ensure she did not walk into another passerby. Lane headed to her car, boots snapping on the sidewalk with her usual confidence, and locked the doors behind her. Nothing seemed amiss. Her scattered papers remained as scattered as before; the empty Taco Fell bag from her last late-night run still sat open on the passenger seat.
Regardless, Lane would not breathe a single sigh of relief until she exited her car and locked the front door of her townhouse behind her.
