Tacos

I drop onto the couch like it personally offended me.

Not sit.

Drop.

There’s a difference.

One implies control.

The other implies gravity won and you’re just along for the ride.

Gravity wins.

The girl with the pink mohawk snaps her head toward me and immediately starts signing.

Fast.

Sharp.

Expressive.

Aggressive, even.

I squint at her.

She finishes with what I’m positive is her flipping me off.

So I flip her off right back.

“Right back at’cha, babe.”

Kristy Lee doesn’t look up from where she leans against the kitchen counter.

“She’s telling you to go easy on her couch.”

I frown.

“She didn’t have to flip me off.”

Kristy finally looks over, already signing as she speaks.

“She didn’t flip you off. She’s using sign language. She’s Deaf.”

There’s a beat.

Pink Mohawk watches me.

Then, very deliberately, she flips me off.

Slow.

Clear.

Intentional.

Kristy sighs.

I nod.

“My bad.”

Then, louder, because apparently that’s how I think deafness works—

“Sorry. Nice couch.”

I pat the arm.

Both women stare at me.

Then shake their heads.

Fair.

“What do I call her?” I ask.

Pink Mohawk signs.

Kristy translates.

“Advent.”

I glance at the painted wall.

“As in Advent Groove?”

Advent smiles.

Then flips me off again.

I point at her.

“I like this one.”

Kristy pushes away from the counter and comes over.

“How much do you remember?”

“Define remember. Right now, I’m operating on vibes and regret.”

“After I sedated you—”

“Shot me.”

“Sedated.”

“Still circling back to that.”

“I went after your helmet.”

That gets my attention.

“And?”

“I got it.”

“Good. Love that for us.”

She doesn’t smile.

That’s new.

“There were complications.”

“Define complications.”

“A citywide identity crisis.”

“Naturally.”

“The parties worked.”

“What parties?”

“The ones that turned Paradise into a citywide nervous breakdown.”

She counts on her fingers.

“You were seen at a warehouse rave. A marina bonfire. A church bingo riot. A rooftop pool party.”

I stare at her.

“That sounds like the best version of me.”

“It was.”

Then she hesitates.

That gets my attention more than anything she’s said so far.

“I need to tell you something.”

“That usually means either aliens or pregnancy.”

Nothing.

No smile.

No comeback.

My own grin fades.

“Okay.”

She looks down at the helmet on the coffee table.

“After I got away from Tim—”

“Who’s Tim?”

“The man who took your helmet.”

“Then I already dislike Tim.”

“I cut through West End Park.”

“At night?”

“It was faster.”

A beat.

“You know where Lover’s Bridge crosses the creek?”

I nod slowly.

“Yeah.”

“I was hoofing it through there with your helmet under my arm, blood running down one knee, and half of Ted’s payroll looking for my head.”

She swallows.

“At first, I thought she was homeless.”

Nobody moves.

Nobody jokes.

“She was sitting on the railing. Barefoot. White dress.”

Something cold moves through my ribs.

“She looked real,” Kristy says quietly. “Solid. Like I could’ve reached out and touched her.”

“But?”

“I stepped toward her. She flickered.”

Kristy holds up one finger.

“Just once. For half a second, I could see the bridge railing through her. Then she was solid again.”

“Ghost?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“More like a projection.”

I rub my temples.

“What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know.”

Another pause.

“But before I could say anything, she looked directly at me.”

Kristy’s voice drops.

“She said, ‘You’re not the one.’”

The room goes still.

“Then she said, ‘Gene has to find me.’”

My throat goes dry.

“She told me her name was Rachel Lewis.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Real.

I lean forward.

“What did she look like?”

“Five foot seven.”

We all turn.

Captain Henderson stands in the doorway holding a cup of coffee like he’s been there the whole time and we only just earned the right to notice him.

“Dark hair,” he continues. “Looks at you like she already knows your secrets.”

I blink.

“Do people keep breaking into this house?”

Advent starts signing at me.

I raise one hand.

“Nope. Not falling for it again.”

Kristy translates.

“She says you smell like tequila and regret.”

I nod.

“Fair.”

Henderson walks in.

“Rachel Lewis.”

I stare at him.

“You know her?”

“Not personally. But I know her case, and I know her husband.”

That lands heavier than I expect.

“I also know whoever took her stopped being normal criminals a long time ago.”

He steps closer.

“The Order of the Veil.”

Kristy straightens.

Henderson looks at me.

“They burned a barn outside Mercantile Falls three weeks ago.”

I freeze.

“The Bowman farm.”

He nods.

“Two bodies inside. Three more people tied to support beams and still breathing. Symbols cut into the floor. Someone interrupted what appears to have been a ritual sacrifice.”

My stomach turns.

Then I see it.

The money.

The timing.

Ted.

“That’s how he got it.”

Henderson frowns.

“Got what?”

“The land. Ted said he bought the farm after the fire.”

“Three weeks isn’t enough time to close a normal sale.”

“Ted doesn’t wait in normal lines.”

Henderson takes a drink of coffee.

“One of his shell companies already held the mortgage. The fire triggered a default clause. He didn’t buy the property afterward.”

“He was waiting to take it.”

Henderson nods.

“The barn looked brand-new when I went there.”

“Because it was. Polmey had a replacement put up immediately.”

Fast.

Clean.

Manufactured.

Just like the job.

“Then we’re chasing the same devil,” I say.

A long silence follows.

Then Henderson says, “He checks in.”

I blink.

“Who?”

“A man named Bodhi Lewis.”

The name catches.

A little girl’s book sitting in my lap.

Princess and Mr. Sullivan Go to the Zoo.

Author: Bodhi Lewis.

“He writes children’s books?”

Henderson looks mildly offended by the question.

“Among other things.”

“Husband of the missing woman. Children’s author. Anything else?”

“He shows up with a dog, asks too many questions, and gets too little sleep.”

“Sounds like somebody I’d hate.”

Henderson smirks.

“I think you’d like him.”

Advent picks up my helmet.

She turns it beneath the light, studying the flames and running one thumb along the painted skull.

Then she scratches lightly near the edge.

She signs something to Kristy.

Kristy watches her hands.

“She says Ginger used more than one kind of paint.”

Advent sets down the helmet, disappears through the hallway, and returns carrying a blacklight.

No explanation.

Just places it on the table.

Henderson blinks.

“Why does she have that?”

“Because I’m the dumbest person here.”

Advent signs.

Kristy translates.

“She says that’s the first smart thing you’ve said.”

I point at Advent.

“Definitely like her.”

Kristy turns off the nearest lamp and clicks on the blacklight.

Purple washes across the helmet.

Nothing.

Then letters bloom beneath the painted flames.

Hidden.

Waiting.

SHANGRI-LA

Nobody moves.

Nobody breathes.

I lean forward.

For the first time all morning, I feel completely awake.

“Oh.”

Henderson looks at me.

“What?”

I tap the helmet.

“Ted’s penthouse.”

Kristy frowns.

“How do you know?”

“Because Ted thinks he’s part gangster, part emperor.”

I point toward the letters.

“Whole place is decorated like some rich man’s fantasy kingdom. He calls it Shangri-La.”

Nobody speaks.

I stand.

Too fast.

The room tilts.

I catch myself against the wall.

“Yeah.”

I nod toward the door.

“I need air.”

Nobody stops me.

Probably a mistake.

The taco truck doesn’t belong there.

That’s my first thought.

Quiet suburban street. Trimmed lawns. Mailbox flags.

And a full-blown taco truck parked outside a punk house like it pays property taxes.

I walk up.

The older man behind the window smiles.

“What can I get you?”

“A taco.”

I look around.

“And an explanation.”

He laughs.

“Chaos is good for business.”

I blink.

“I respect that.”

He points down the street.

“Heard about all the parties.”

He looks proud now.

“I have twelve trucks.”

He starts counting.

“Tacos. Cheesesteaks. Soup. Breakfast. Coffee. Anything people panic-buy.”

“Sounds like a real empire.”

“People dance.”

A pause.

“People eat.”

Then—

“And your girl needed help moving dead weight around town.”

I frown.

“Dead weight?”

He points at me.

“You.”

I nod.

“Fair.”

He hands me a taco.

It tastes better than I deserve.

Then his smile fades.

“Wish I had someone to pass it on to.”

I look up.

“No kids?”

“I have a son.”

A pause.

“He’d rather chase money and crime than do honest work.”

Another pause.

“He’s been gone a week.”

I chew slowly.

“Maybe I know him.”

That gets his attention.

“What does he look like?”

“Short. Skinny. Handsome. Like me.”

I smirk.

“He wear a leather jacket three sizes too big?”

Silence.

Then—

“You do know him.”

I reach into my wallet, pull out a card, and hand it through the window.

“Little Ray Ray.”

The man studies it.

“What can he do?”

“He specializes in boys who think being feared is the same as being respected.”

I consider the rest.

“Part scared straight. Part tough love.”

I meet his eyes.

“But it works.”

He nods slowly.

“You want your boy back?”

“Yeah.”

“If Little Ray Ray can’t help him, nobody can.”

“Thank you.”

I glance toward Advent’s house.

“Can’t go back inside empty-handed.”

I hold up the taco.

“Load me up.”

He starts packing food.

“On the house.”

I raise one hand.

“Nope.”

I drop two hundred-dollar bills onto the counter.

“I’ve incurred too much debt lately.”

I gather the bags.

Turn.

Then stop.

“You get your boy back.”

The man nods.

“And treat him right.”

I can’t say the rest.

So I walk away.

When I step inside, every eye finds me.

I set down the tacos and start handing them out.

Nobody argues.

Smart people.

I sit, take a bite, and look at Henderson.

“How did you find us?”

He smirks.

“Kristy Lee.”

She looks up.

“You activated half this town last night. I followed your old contacts.”

Kristy shakes her head.

“I burned them.”

The room quiets.

“Every favor,” she says. “Every marker. Every asset.”

She looks at me.

“That network is gone. I couldn’t do another night like last night if I wanted to.”

I nod.

Take another bite.

Chew.

Swallow.

Then smile.

“Good.”

They all look at me.

Kristy folds her arms.

“Why is that good?”

I lean back.

Finally steady.

Because for the first time, I know exactly where we’re going.

“I haven’t used mine.”