Free Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) by Allyn Lesley

darkness. He pulled out the lightweight, handheld bomb detector that was just inches taller than a pen and swept the vehicle.
    “We’re good,” Gavin said when the device beeped. “Keys?”
    Noah threw the spare set toward him, which he caught with expert precision. Gavin unlocked the door, sliding behind the wheel, then turned the engine over. Satisfied, he gave a thumbs up for Noah to enter the car. As soon as Gavin pushed the key into the ignition, cymbals, drums, and the start of a famous song came from the speakers.
    “Touch my radio and you’ll eat a bullet.” Noah stretched out his long legs before leaning back and closing his eyes.
    Gavin tsked at his friend, but pulled his hand from the knob he was just about to lower. “You’re so sensitive tonight.”
    Noah swayed his head to the orchestra-style musicians backing the singer.
    “Come on, man. I’m tired of Ol’ Blue Eyes,” Gavin said as one of his friend’s favorite songs about their hometown blared through the vehicle. “I swear you’re trapped in an old man’s body.”
    Noah’s silence was the only response he planned on giving.
    About thirty minutes later, Gavin parked across the street from a home they were well acquainted with.
    “You want me to come inside?”
    Noah exhaled. “Give me that phone.”
    “Tell him he’ll get a new one in two weeks.” Gavin pushed a black phone toward him.
    Taking it, Noah left the car. He eyed the slender stretch of road between him and the house. At this time of night, the resident should be fast asleep but Noah still took the path he’s taken since he was a boy nearing eighteen years old.
    He stuck to the side of the house, passing Harry’s vehicle parked outside in his one-car garage, then walked up the short stairs. The motion sensor light came on, revealing the chipped paint on the vinyl siding. Noah made a mental note to get painters sent over. His key was in his right pocket, and just like old times, Noah fished it out, pushing it into the lock. He smiled when the key turned with ease. A quick look down the length of the house revealed no one peeking from behind curtains out at him.
    Noah entered the side door. He inhaled the familiar scents of pine, take out, and Harry Manning. Heading to the refrigerator, he grinned at the contents: one pizza box, a half container of milk, and a few cans of beer.
    Nothing’s changed.
    He pushed the refrigerator door closed and was again shrouded in the darkness in the kitchenette. Turning around, he took a few steps toward the living room, curious if Harry was indeed in bed.
    Creak.
    Noah’s sight dropped to the hardwood floor.
    “Don’t move.”
    The voice was steady, and Noah was certain the gun in the man’s hand was just as steady. The overhead light flickered on. Their eyelids both fluttered, adjusting to the bright fluorescent glare.
    “You’re going to shoot me?” Noah moved past him and walked farther into the small home he’d missed.
    “Noah?” Harry paused, but recovered quickly. “Can’t be too careful these days,” he said before lowering his weapon. Trailing behind Noah, Harry sat in his favorite chair then placed the gun on the table in front of him.
    Noah dropped himself onto the worn blue couch. The cushions fit around his body like his own skin. Just like I never left. He breathed in the scent and reveled in his one-time refuge. Here, Harry’s idealism and belief in the old Noah pushed away the hardened man Noah had become. He used to enjoy escaping into Harry’s dreams.
    “So, you’re here.”
    Harry’s abrupt words dragged his attention and focus to the older man. He was surrounded by newspaper clippings, folders on the floor, and a notepad with scribblings that sat on the corner of a smaller table to his left.
    “I’m here,” Noah acknowledged. “Thought it’d be best.”
    Harry scrutinized Noah as if trying to come up with an action plan. He nodded once before opening the closest folder to him, shoving an article at