Clusterfuck [Lesbian]

Chapter 6

She lost Lara. The motorcycle's engine faded into the distance, and Mia didn't know her target's destination. Again, her plan went to shit. Instead of being upset, looking for the license plate or model of the bike, she stayed crouched in her spot behind layers of trees as the argument replayed in her mind.

The woman she needed to find was innocent and grieving.

Fuck.

A dozen feet ahead sat Audrey, still on the ground, frozen in place.

That was fucking emotional. Was she crying at least?

A shiver ran down Mia's back, and she closed her eyes for a moment. How was she supposed to take Lara in now? Granted she could even track her. The woman wasn't even guilty, and by the time she reached her van-

One thing at a time.

Mia silently stood, rolling her ankles to regain the feeling to her feet. She needed to check the cabin. She rubbed the bark off her hands, onto her jeans and then reached for the gun she didn't have anymore. Right. Audrey had that. As if on cue, the lawyer stood too, wiping at her cheeks as she headed down the trail. So she was crying.

Hidden behind her chosen tree, Mia waited for the woman to pass. Time was running out, and she wasn't a gambler. If she was going to substitute Audrey for the target, she'd at least want a clue where Lara might've gone, so she headed straight for the shed once the crunching of leaves and sticks faded in the distance.

The old pine door gave way to a room washed in blue light. Mist hovered in the air, near the ceiling, and a half consumed joint lay forgotten on the floor.

It must have been because of the light, but the bare chamber felt comfortable, somehow nostalgic to even new eyes. The nesting of blankets and pillows lured her in the same way her own bed would. Maybe she was just tired.

Some wrinkles in the covers shaped Lara's silhouette and lost between two creases rested her target's phone. A flip phone. Who the hell still had a flip phone besides-right, drug dealers. It wouldn't turn on, so her next goal was to find a charger. No luck. Not even an outlet.

What she did find-other than a few spiders-were two drawn, colored portraits. One was of a blonde girl sketched in harsh lines, with solid blocks of color. It would have been a respectable cartoony style had the artist not made the lips cover half of the face. The other was much softer, more realistic, impressive.

Though, clearly this had been some sort of game; the realistic drawing had eraser marks where a proper mouth had been, replaced by a thin, straight line.

Lost echoes of laughter tugged at a smile. Without ever meeting these girls, Mia now possessed one of their fond memories. Her lips pressed together. This wasn't for her to look at.

As she set the drawings down, Mia figured out who the blonde was, or at least had a guess: Sam, the same young girl from the picture in Lara's apartment. The one Lara said was dying. She couldn't help but think of-no. Don't make it personal.

She rushed the rest of her search-every second that ticked added distance between her and the target-and she found herself outside, where the tire tracks started. The trail heading deeper into the forest must lead to the highway. Then she looked to where she came from: the hike that would lead to her car, Audrey's car, Audrey.

The Don wanted the woman who stole his drugs, right?

Mia rolled her eyes at herself, looking to the tire tracks again. She wasn't that naïve. But she couldn't lose both Lara and Audrey.