Page 101 of The Rut in the Road

“Seriously? Shit,” Cass breathed.

“Fuck,” came Hart’s predicable comment. “You okay, kid? Water? Ginger ale?” He thought for a second. “Vodka?”

“Not helpful, Hart,” Raj growled.

“I dunno, boss,” Cass interjected. “But if I’d been in that guy’s head, I wouldn’t mind the vodka.”

He glanced over at her, his expression grim and annoyed at the same time.

Drew got up and left the room.

“Are you okay, Rayn?” Raj was the one asking me this time, his gold-brown eyes worried, although he didn’t come close to me or try to touch me.

“I’ll be fine,” I answered. I wasn’t fine, not in the slightest. I didn’t think I’d be sleeping much tonight, and possibly not for several nights, and not just because of the séance that I still had to drive Ward to in a couple hours.

Raj had gotten called in around six in the morning, warning me that they might show up at Beyond the Veil.

I asked if I should just come with him, and he’d shaken his head.

He’d come to get me around ten.

I had to be back at work by two.

Drew returned to the room and handed me a Coke.

“Thanks,” I said, appreciating both the sugar and the carbonation, which would help to settle my stomach and restore my strength, and the caffeine, which I desperately needed.

Drew gave me a nod in return.

I opened the bottle and took a long drink.

Cass held up the baggie with fragments of headlight, although how the SUV still had any after having killed both Odell Jones and, now, Gavin Nelson, the unfortunate orc who’d been run down an hour or so after I’d finally gone to sleep.

“Do we want?—”

“Nobody needs to know what that poor bastard felt,” Hart interrupted. “Seriously. We know who the fuck he is—was. Fuck.” He swallowed. “There’s no goddamn reason to make Rayn do that shit.”

“He turned around,” I whispered.

“What?” Raj was the one to ask.

I couldn’t look up. “The victim,” I answered, trying to speak more loudly. “He turned around. Maybe he saw something useful.”

“Fucking headlights?” Hart snapped, his eyes angry as they locked on me, although I didn’t know why he might be upset with me.

“Make, model, color,” I replied.

“Fuck!” Hart exploded, shoving himself away from the table and starting to pace.

Everyone else looked at him, the confusion on their faces telling me they didn’t know why he was reacting this way, either.

“You got an issue, Hart?” Raj asked.

Hart half-threw himself back into his chair. “I just hate this bigoted fucking bullshit,” he snapped.

Raj’s forehead creased with worry, and, for once, it wasn’t directed at me.

Then he nodded to Cass, who passed me the bag.