I kept glancing at my phone.
Every few seconds my eyes drifted back to the screen, searching for a message that wasn't there, waiting for Tengu's men to tell me they had found Rhonda, waiting for something—anything—that would tell me this entire trip hadn't been a waste of time. while I sat here asking Kuro about his childhood and his dead family .
The stalling was working.
Or so I believed until Kuro set his empty mug on the table, looked at me with something that was not quite amusement and said, "Don't bother."
I looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't bother." He said it again with the same mild certainty, the same way someone said something when they were not trying to convince you but merely informing you of a fact. "They won't find anything here."
For a moment I just stared at him.
What was that supposed to mean?
Kuro got up from his chair, he picked up the coffee cup he'd been drinking from earlier and walked toward the tiny sink built into the trailer's kitchenette.
