Free More by Sloan Parker Page A

more of the devices. One hidden under the desk, and another under the lamp in the bedroom. He searched the kitchen last and scanned for several minutes before the unit lit up over an electrical outlet. Walter retrieved the last device, deactivated it, and placed it inside the case. “Should be it.”
    “You're sure?”
    He pointed to the computer on the table. “That's our latest creation. It can even find experimental devices, off-the-books type stuff. After 9/11, the government's willing to pay me good money, so I deliver the best. There's no way he's got anything else in here.”
    I paced the living room and dragged a hand through my hair. “Whoever my father has working for him this time is good. He knew to check the tape on the door, and that shit's impossible to see. He deleted today's video feed and restored yesterday's in its place.”
    “Smart.” Walter eyed the computer. “You keep any personal info on there?”
    “No. It's for surveillance. And my laptop was with me all day.”
    “Good.” Walter walked back to the kitchen and peered into the small room. “Is anything missing?”
    “Not that I can see.” I shrugged. “I don't have much.”
    “This isn't a robbery, Luke. They weren't here for a TV and your DVDs. They may have taken something small, something with personal shit on it.”
    “I don't keep that kind of stuff.”
    He went into the kitchen and returned with two new beers. He handed me one. “What's he up to this time around?”
    I swallowed a long gulp. The cool beer took the edge off my nerves. “I don't know. Somehow, he lets me know when he's found me. He wants me to know he can always find me. This time"— I shook my head—"he has another agenda.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “Move. Again!” I threw the half-empty beer. It smashed against the wall. Shards of glass and foaming beer ran down the surface in streaks.
    Walter didn't flinch at my outburst. He scrutinized my impromptu work of art. “Has he ever told you why he has you followed?”
    “No.”
    “Have you thought about leaving the city? Maybe he'd— ”
    “I won't let him run me off. Anyway, it's different this time. A reporter called here the other day.”
    Walter lowered the bottle from his lips. “Not good.”
    “I know. If in a couple of days, I haven't found a place— ”
    He raised a hand in the air. “You don't even have to ask. Just come on over. For as long as you need.”
    “Thanks. I'm sorry about before. I'm not used to... I don't know how to... ” I shrugged.
    “Care?”
    “I guess.”
    “Thanks for the concern. I'm fine. You take care of yourself. I have a feeling he might become dangerous.”
    I met my friend's gaze. “He's always been dangerous.”
    We stood in silence for a few minutes. Walter fetched another beer from the kitchen and held it out to me. “So I haven't talked to you since last weekend. I take it Saturday night went well?”
    I reached for the beer and winced. There was no way I was getting out of admitting whom I'd been with. “Fucker.”
    Walter took a seat on the couch. “Yep. So it was them again, huh?”
    I sat on the edge of the desk. “I couldn't stop myself.”
    “Why should you?” He shifted on the cushion. “This couch is one uncomfortable piece of furniture.”
    “I'll leave it here when I go. Maybe this time I'll find a nicer place, get some real furniture.” I tapped the beer bottle against my thigh. “Maybe I should stop trying to run from him and see what the hell he's going to do next.”
    “You can't run forever.”
    I took another swallow of beer, held it in my mouth, and let the cool liquid warm between my cheeks. Something I used to do with my milk as a kid. My father hated it. He'd sit across from me at the dinner table and demand I swallow. Milk wasn't to be drunk warm.
    “Will I see you at the club tonight?” Walter asked.
    I choked down the beer and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “You'll be back again already?”
    “I