Lines of Defense

Ch. 21

AMELIA HART

The drive feels longer than it should. My hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel as I replay the mystery around this meeting in my head. The address leads me to a deserted-looking warehouse district. Shadows and chipped paint stretch across the concrete walls as I pull up to the location. I kill the engine, my breath steadying, and scan the area, half-expecting someone to jump out at any moment.

I check my phone. No new messages, no follow-ups. Just silence. I glance in the rearview mirror, spotting Jane's headlights about a block away, dim but reassuring. She'd insisted on following me, just in case, and I was grateful for it now.

"Are you seeing anything weird?" Jane's voice comes through the earpiece, her tone as cautious as mine feels. I can practically hear her eyebrow lifting over the line.

"No, nothing. I don't even see anyone waiting." I sigh, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

But just as I lean back, a flicker of movement catches my eye. A figure—a woman—emerges from the far side of the warehouse. She's wrapped in a long coat, moving quickly, almost frantically. I squint, trying to make out any details, but before I can gather my thoughts, she starts to run.

"Wait, someone's here," I whisper, leaning forward as if it'll help me see her more clearly.

"Who?" Jane's voice sharpens with interest.

"I don't know, but she's running. Like, away from me." I turn to look, debating whether to get out and follow her or stay put.

"Could she be... you know, whoever you're supposed to meet?" Jane suggests, a little skeptically.

I watch the woman disappear around the corner. "Maybe," I mumble, but even to me, it sounds unsure. If that's who I was supposed to meet, then what does her running off mean?

Silence settles between us. Jane cuts through it a moment later. "Amelia, if that was her, then she's clearly not here to chat. Maybe this is a bad idea."

I chew on her words, glancing around the empty, dim lot. She has a point, but something holds me in place. Curiosity or stubbornness, I'm not sure.

"Just... give me a little time, okay?" I answer, more to calm myself than her.

The minutes drag. Jane checks in every now and then, her questions a little sharper each time. "How long are you planning to sit there, Amelia?"

I stifle a sigh. "I don't know. Maybe a few more minutes. I don't want to leave without being sure."

Jane's voice drops to a lower tone, as if she's leaning closer to the phone on her end. "It's been forty-five minutes, Amelia. This doesn't look like it's going anywhere. Whoever you're meeting might not be the type to hang around."

But I'm still looking, studying every shadow, every flicker of movement in the faint streetlight as if it might reveal something I missed.

Jane sighs in exasperation, clearly losing patience. "Amelia, I'm saying this because I care. You're wasting your time. If that was her, then she's long gone. And if it wasn't, well... you'll end up waiting here all night."

I press my lips together, frustration prickling beneath my skin. She's right, but admitting it feels like giving up, like letting whoever planned this get the upper hand.

"I just... feel like I should wait a little longer." I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Silence again, and then Jane's exasperated laugh breaks it. "Amelia, you're going to end up waiting for a ghost."