The Departed

“Let me out so I can do it. Then maybe I can try to get some sleep.”
    “Answer my question and I’ll let you out.”
    Groaning, she slumped forward and covered her face with her hands. “Months, okay? I haven’t slept well in months. It’s like I can’t . Are you happy? Now let me out.” She slammed her fist against the door, half expecting another question, but to her surprise, all she heard was the quiet snick of the locks.
    She slid out of the car and headed off into the darkness to the far right. That was where Tiffany had said she’d seen a shadow. Taylor wanted her to try to pick up something—if it was going to happen, it would be here, she figured.
    He caught up with her before she’d taken even a few steps. He paced along at her back and she shot him a narrow look. “This is probably a waste of time,” she said. “I’m not one of your bloodhounds.”
    “So you’ve said. But you do well enough. You catch emotion better than you think.” His face was mostly lost to the shadows, but the moonlight caught his hair, gilding it with silver.
    She looked away, tried not to think about how much she wanted to fist her hands in that hair again. It hurt to think about things like that—she knew she wouldn’t have it again. Need was a vicious ache, in her heart, in her belly. Throughout her entire body, it seemed. Why did she have to want things she couldn’t have? she wondered. Why?
    Doesn’t matter . In the end, it didn’t matter why . It just mattered that she couldn’t and she needed to get the hell over it. Muttering under her breath, she shoved a hand through her hair and stopped just outside the square of light cast on the ground by the busted garage window. Crossing her arms over her chest, she closed her eyes and lowered her shields.
    Anger—
    Determination—
    Fucking have to do it myself—
    Idiots—
    She swallowed and jerked her shields back up, thrown off a little by the strength and clarity of those lingering emotions.
    “Whoa.” She pressed a hand to her brow and glanced over at Taylor. “Yeah, somebody was here, all right. It’s a fucking mess of rage here. I’m not what you need, slick—you need one of your bloodhounds. But it’s going to fade before you get somebody in. Emotions this strong don’t last.”
    He stared at her, his gaze heavy and focused on her face. “Can you follow it?”
    “I can try,” she said. She sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair. “The question is, should I? We don’t know what we’re getting into out there, do we?”
    “Everything points to it being one kid. We even know who.” Then he looked away, his shoulders slumping. “But you’re right. We shouldn’t. Not just the two of us.”
    “The trail will be gone before we got anybody else out here.” Her gut clenched. Everything in her resisted the idea of letting that trail go cold. But she knew better than to wander blindly into the unknown.
    She looked toward the garage, then started toward the house, but as soon as she took a few steps, the trail already began falling apart. Not there, then. He didn’t head toward the house. She circled around, shields down. She shivered a little as she brushed too close to Taylor, automatically jerking shields up between them—hard to work that way with a shield between her and him but nowhere else, an added strain she didn’t need. But she had to do it.
    The trail was strong in one area only. A straight line toward the back of the house, off into a darkness so complete, she wouldn’t be able to see much of anything once they moved away from the house.
    “Back there,” she said quietly, looking at Taylor. Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingertips to them. Exhaustion battered her body and she wanted to sink to the cold ground and just curl up into a ball. Sleep for a week. Longer.
    Instead, she lowered her hands and continued to stare off into the darkness. “But there’s no way we can go back there. We’re not here. Officially . How do I explain I need to go nosing around back there in the dark?” She sighed and rubbed her neck. She wasn’t an idiot—she already knew the answer. “We come back. In the morning.”
    “The trail will be gone,” he said, his voice soft, close…only a whisper from her ear.
    She shivered and eased away. “Most likely. It won’t be strong enough for me to track, I know. But maybe I’ll pick up on something. It’s the best we have.”
    “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He reached up,