Bad Things Small Packages

  The Accidental Cases of Emily Abbott #3

  Bad Things, Small Packages

  Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick

  Copyright ©2019 by Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by www.PerryElisabethDesign.com with images from www.depositphotos.com

  www.perrykirkpatrick.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

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  Chapter 1

  “If your evening commute through Downtown Phoenix was longer than usual today, it was likely due to what is sure to become the subject of Internet memes.” The local news anchor’s voice was turned down to a barely-audible murmur on the tiny television screen over the convenience store’s checkout counter. The closed captioning was on, however, and Emily couldn’t help but read along as she waited her turn in line.

  Noting how many people were yet in front of her and the fact that only one very slow and tired-looking clerk was there to ring them all up, she set the two gallon-jugs of water on the floor by her feet. No sense in holding them for that long.

  The news anchor continued, gesturing to helicopter footage of two vehicles weaving precariously through traffic, “A high-speed car chase has wreaked havoc throughout downtown. The chase, while stopped by Phoenix PD, did not involve them—but rather a black sedan chasing none other than a Smart Car. That’s right: this was probably the world’s first car chase involving one of these cars-of-the-future.”

  Emily’s gaze was glued to the screen, and it wasn’t until the woman behind her cleared her throat meaningfully that she realized the line for the checkout had inched forward. She scooted the two water jugs forward with her feet and kept watching the news report.

  Good grief, Brent Peterson! You made the news!

  She would have laughed out loud at the absurdity of a Smart Car chase, but she was concerned to hear how it had ended. Her coworker was an undercover agent for a spy organization he called ICS, and getting caught by local police would probably count as blowing said cover. Getting injured in the world’s first-ever Smart Car chase and ending up on the news was almost definitely the last thing a spy should be doing.

  “The two cars wove through traffic, got on Interstate 10 for a short distance as the driver of the Smart Car attempted to lose his pursuers, and ended up on surface streets once again. Here, you can see the Phoenix PD set up a roadblock, and when the two vehicles see it, they veer inside a nearby parking garage.”

  Emily scooted her water jugs forward another two feet.

  The news footage showed the police closing in on the parking garage. It cut to another view from what Emily assumed was a news van parked across the way. It showed the police leading two angry-looking men out of the garage. She watched for any sign of Brent, but saw none.

  “You clever guy,” she whispered. “How’d you get away?”

  The man ahead of her glanced back over his shoulder, and she wished she had a smartphone to be preoccupied with. The line inched forward again, and the news cut back to the anchor.

  “Police are saying the two men, who have not yet been named, are refusing to cooperate and have adamantly stated they were not chasing each other. An anonymous source is telling us they are claiming they were both in the pursuing car and that a third individual was driving the Smart Car. We will keep you updated on any further developments.”

  The segment went to a commercial break, and Emily turned her attention away. There was only one more person ahead of her in line. Her mind raced to figure out how Brent had pulled off his disappearing act. She worried about security camera footage inside the parking garage.

  He’s trained to notice and evade stuff like that, Emily, she told herself. He’s in the clear for sure.

  Surprised by a sudden, violent sneeze, she clapped a hand over her mouth and glanced around apologetically at the people nearby. She frowned, realizing for the first time she’d been a little sniffly all day.

  I’d better not be coming down with something.

  She eyed the display of immune-boosting vitamins along the counter. It was as if someone had anticipated a sneezy, sniffly girl would be in that day and laid out a bunch of fancy products to tempt her.

  But she recalled she had good-old vitamin C tablets at home and resolved to take them, drink lots of water, and go to bed early.

  Maybe that will head it off, and by the morning I’ll be better.

  Emily glanced up at the TV and wished they’d replay the clip showing the two men they’d arrested. The news camera had been a little too far away for her to make out much about them, but one appeared swarthy and the other appeared pale and either had short, light hair or was bald. It was hard to tell for sure.

  Who’s after this thing, Brent?

  She touched the front-right pocket of her jeans and felt the tiny microSD card Brent had stashed on the ski rack atop her Subaru.

  Her Subaru.

  She couldn’t help but grin to herself and then stopped abruptly, her eyes involuntarily widening as she realized the guy in front of her had just turned from the counter and thought she was grinning at him.

  Someday I'll stop being awkward.

  Clearing her throat and averting her gaze, she stooped to pick up the water jugs, hoisting them onto the counter.

  “How’s it going,” droned the clerk. His lack of inflection made it unclear whether he’d actually asked a question.

  “Good,” Emily replied. “Just gotta get water that's actually fit for drinking, you know? Phoenix city water is so nasty.”

  “Yeah.”

  The clerk was silent throughout the rest of the transaction. “Have a nice day,” he intoned as she took her change. Emily glanced up at the small TV once more on her way out the door, but the channel had moved on from the car chase story.

  “Home again, home again,” she said to herself, unlocking her new-used Subaru and still scarcely believing it was hers. It was definitely an upgrade from Old Blue—her beater car that Brent had wrecked in his last car chase.

  She slid into the driver’s seat and smirked. “You get into a lot of car chases, don’t you, Agent Nighthawk?”

  Deepening her voice to mimic Brent’s, she answered herself. “That’s movie stuff, Emily.”

  “Sure it is.” Emily exited the gas station’s parking lot, grateful that the last brilliant rays of sunlight were being blocked by the tall downtown buildings as she made her way toward I-10. By the time she was up on the freeway, the sun would be below the White Tank Mountains to the west rather than shining right in her eyes.

  Emily checked and then re-checked her mental list.

  She’d cashed the replacement ch
eck from her pet-sitting job.

  She’d gotten the groceries she hadn’t been able to afford before due to the unfortunate check-washing incident.

  She’d forgotten to buy water and had stopped at this gas station to get a couple gallons.

  That should be everything.

  Out of habit, she glanced at the gas gauge. The tank was still nearly full. She exhaled and relaxed; it felt good to have all the basics taken care of once again.

  As she merged onto the freeway, which was only just beginning to let up from its extended rush-hour crawl, another enormous sneeze seized her.

  Ugh.

  Chapter 2

  It was mostly dark when Emily arrived home. She made two trips up the metal stairs, shuttling the groceries and water jugs and staging them in front of her door. Unlocking it, she stepped inside and flicked on the nearest light switch, illuminating the living room.

  “Oh!” She jumped backward, nearly tripping on the threshold.

  Brent Peterson was kicked back on her couch. One arm had been thrown over his eyes, but he now peered out from under it, probably instantly awake the minute her key slid into the lock.

  “This counts as sneaking up on me, just so you know,” Emily said, sagging against the door frame and waiting for her heart rate to slow.

  “Hello to you, too,” he said, grinning and sitting up a little stiffly.

  She peered at him and advanced a few steps. A new bruise shadowed his hairline on the left side of his face, and an angry-looking seatbelt abrasion graced his collarbone. Emily’s eyes narrowed in concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Feeling better after resting,” he said, shrugging.

  Crashing a Smart Car probably wasn’t a very safe thing to do… from the looks of it he got knocked around. What if he’d gotten a concussion?

  Emily looked back at the waiting groceries by her still-open front door and cringed, thinking about the hot, summer air pouring in. Her air-conditioning system would work double-time to cool the air, and she’d see it in her next electricity bill. Brent got up off the couch and started forward.

  “No, no, no,” Emily said, putting both hands on his chest and pushing him away from the door. “You rest. I don’t want my neighbors to see you. Someone will probably wonder what kind of fight you got into, and I just don’t want to deal with the questions.”

  She quickly moved her grocery bags just inside and then closed the door. From there, and despite her protestations that he should probably be resting, Brent helped her move everything into the kitchen around the corner and get it put away.

  “I see it was less of a prepping-for-the-apocalypse shopping trip,” he teased.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “I guess I just figured I probably got enough dry rice and beans to last a good-sized zombie invasion last time I was at the store.”

  Brent nodded thoughtfully, a mischievous look in his eyes.

  “And don’t you dare codename me Zombie-hunter or anything,” Emily hastened to say. She frowned. “I mean, it is far cooler than anything you’ve already come up with, but ick. Zombies are a creepy and kinda dumb concept, you know?”

  “If you say so, Prepper.”

  “Seriously?” Emily shook her head.

  Prepper is slightly cooler than ARK, I suppose.

  “Now, Agent Nightbird, you sit right there,” she pointed to her kitchen chair, enjoying botching his codename, “just like last time we did this, and I’ll get frozen peas for that bruise and some kind of ointment from my first aid kit for the abrasion. And while I work on that, you can tell me what is going on!” She smiled brightly and turned toward the freezer.

  “If I told you, I’d have to—”

  Emily spun back around. “That’s movie stuff, Brent.”

  I can’t believe I got to be the one to say that!

  Brent shrugged. “Mostly.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows and tossed him the bag of frozen peas she kept as an ice pack. She retrieved her small first aid kit from the bathroom and rummaged through it for an appropriate ointment.

  “So what can you tell me?”

  Brent leaned back in the chair and appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Well, let’s see. ICS received intelligence pointing us toward an active enemy dead drop in a location I can’t disclose. Our intel included the fact that the drop did, or was going to, contain a list of agents. I staked it out before today’s shift at Sunrise Coffee, and ended up stealing the list right out of the dead drop just after the enemy agent left it.”

  “Does this list happen to be on a microSD card that you stashed in a crevice on the ski rack on my new Subaru before your now-infamous car chase occurred?” Emily stopped dabbing ointment on the abrasion on Brent’s neck and leaned back to look at him.

  His eyes widened and he blinked a few times before replying. “Uh. Yes?”

  “I wondered what you’d stashed up there before taking off in the Smart Car,” Emily shrugged and added a little more ointment before covering the whole thing with an abnormally large adhesive bandage. “So I checked and found it there.”

  “Sorry to make you the carrier pigeon,” Brent said, lowering the bag of frozen peas from the side of his head and gingerly touching the edges of the bandage on his collarbone. “And thanks for—” he gestured vaguely “—this.”

  “You bet,” Emily said, smiling at him. “Glad you’re okay. How’s the Smart Car, by the way?”

  Brent grinned sheepishly. “Not totaled?”

  She laughed. “Well, I guess that’s good. How did you get away without being seen and make it look like your pursuers were the only ones involved?”

  Brent stood up and stretched. “Well, first of all, I’m very efficient at wiping down fingerprints even while driving—nobody will know you or I ever touched that vehicle.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t even thought of my fingerprints being all over it. Thank you for making sure.”

  “And… the rest of my escape? Trade secret.” He winked. “Now, I’d better call an Uber and get that microSD off your ski rack.”

  “Oh!” Emily put her hand into her pocket as Brent tapped his phone screen to summon a car.

  “Yes?” he looked up.

  “I actually pocketed the card for safekeeping…” She frowned.

  It is literally the only thing in that pocket. How am I not feeling it?

  “Emily?” Brent looked confused.

  “I didn’t want the card to fall out while I was on the freeway, so I put it in my pocket.” She switched to checking her other pocket, thinking she was possibly going insane. “No, I’m sure it was in this one,” she murmured. A feeling of panic squeezed her chest and she plunged her hand back in, checking the bottom corners carefully. “I remember feeling it right here when I was at the gas station!”

  She looked up at Brent, her eyes wide. “But now I can’t find it!”

  Chapter 3

  Emily checked every pocket again. “It’s just not here, Brent!”

  His expression was confused. “Did you have anything else in that pocket? Like… your keys? I’ve pulled one thing out of my pocket before and dragged out something else with it.”

  She shook her head. “No, my keys were in my purse, and I don’t remember putting anything else in that pocket. Like I said: the card was still there when I was in line at the convenience store.”

  “No holes in the corners of the pocket?”

  She checked. “None.”

  Brent let out a pent-up breath. “Okay, let’s retrace your steps. C’mon.”

  They looked all around the kitchen, Brent lying flat on his stomach and checking under the appliances with his flashlight. “Nothing,” he finally pronounced, groaning slightly as he got to his feet. “You coming down with something?”

  Emily just shrugged and blew her nose. She’d sneezed several times as they searched. “Perhaps my kitchen is extraordinarily dusty.”

  “Doesn’t look like it to me,”
Brent said. “Take some vitamin C, and then let’s look outside.”

  Emily opened the front door and looked both ways, checking for nosy neighbors. The coast was clear, so they slowly worked their way back down to the parking lot, checking each step carefully with Brent’s flashlight. The night air was hot, and Emily found herself wiping sweat from her forehead by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Warm?” Brent asked.

  “Just a bit.”

  “Same. It should cool off after dark, shouldn’t it?”

  He’s obviously not originally from Arizona.

  “You’d think,” she said aloud. “But no, not this time of year. Especially not in the city. In the rural areas, it does cool off a little more, especially with the evening breeze. But we’re still only talking the 80s at best.”

  Brent shook his head.

  By the time they’d crossed the parking lot to Emily’s car, they still hadn’t seen a sign of the microSD card. By flashlight, they went over every inch of the Subaru—both inside and out.

  “Let’s just pray none of my neighbors looks outside and thinks they’re seeing grand theft auto out here,” Emily muttered, her head half-way underneath the front passenger’s seat. She sneezed.

  Brent grunted in reply.

  After nearly half an hour of sweaty, fruitless searching, he shook his head. “I don’t think it’s here. Let’s go to the convenience store.”

  Emily nodded quickly. “Whatever it takes to find the thing.”

  She drove them back into Phoenix, grateful for the Subaru’s cold air-conditioning and the lack of traffic now that it was late.

  “I’m really sorry, Brent,” she said after a long silence had stretched out. “I thought I was doing the right thing, taking it off the ski rack. I—I don’t know how this happened.”

  He nodded, shifting in the passenger’s seat. “It was good thinking to move it.”

  Emily glanced over at him sheepishly. “What happens if we can’t find it? It’s not the key to stopping an imminent terrorist attack on the capitol or anything, is it?”