Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39)

by Robert J. Crane

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Have you ever heard of such state-sponsored bullshit?” I vented, my face turned to the window. The sky had gone gray and cloudy, as we snaked over the well-trafficked surface roads of Eden Prairie. “I owned that property and they just sold it out from underneath me without a word while I'm off serving my country.”

  “If that's what you want to call it,” Lethe said from behind the wheel.

  “What would you call it?”

  Her eyes got a gleam, and she smiled very slightly. “Well, considering I had to spring you from prison...”

  “Fine, I also did some running and served a little time,” I said. “But I've been working for the FBI for almost a year. How could they just...?” I made a grunt of pure frustration as Lethe coasted us to a stop before a red light.

  “I imagine they condemned it first,” she said. “Then started piling tax liens on it, because you probably weren't paying it while you were away...at all.”

  “Well, I was kinda busy being on the run from the law for two years of that,” I said. “But I didn't hear a word from the city during my time working for the FBI. They could have sent me something, at least. I could have made a payment plan from my work earnings, maybe.” I thought about it for a second. “Well, maybe not while I was paying New York and DC rents, but it would have been nice to at least be told before they auctioned it off to...who knows who, really?”

  “You want to drive by it?” Lethe asked, cool as ever.

  “No, it's forever away in rush hour traffic.” I looked over the highway bridge we were crossing. 494 waited below, packed almost bumper to bumper. “Our destination is close. Why detour now? Maybe I'll drive by some time this week.” I sighed. “Not like I don't have an abundance of time now. To hear Reed tell it, who knows when the next case will come in?”

  “Sounds like your brother's pretty busy right now.”

  “Three cases this week,” I said. “It is a lot, especially since they wiped out the metahuman drug supply. Still...it's out there now. People are taking it. Something will come along.” I stared at the screen of my phone, which Jamal had pronounced...actually, I don't know that he had voiced his opinion. Just sort of grunted, sighed, and handed it back to me when I was ready to leave. Whatever that meant.

  “Which brings me to a question,” Lethe said. “Where do I fit in to all this?”

  “Well, I mean, you got a hotel room for tonight, right? So–”

  “Not what I meant and you know it,” she said. “I stayed away all these years, like you asked me to. But I'd like to be in your life now.”

  “You will,” I said. “You can be, I mean.” I paused. “Wait...are you saying you want a job?”

  She opened her mouth, then left it that way for a good five seconds as she considered. “I...don't know. I'm not sure I'd fit in well with your friends.”

  “Seems like Scott thinks you'd fit right in,” I muttered, looking out the window at a two-story bank building with a brick facade and black glass windows. “Or maybe vice versa.”

  “He's cute, but he's a little young for me,” she said, eyes straight ahead. “Also, I'm not going to date my granddaughter's castoffs, for obvious reasons.”

  “It makes your skin crawl thinking about getting my sloppy seconds, doesn't it?”

  “It really does. As I think it would for any normal person.” She shuddered, making a face. “Leave all that to the Zeus branch of the family. We're better than that.”

  “Let's say you did stay.” I glanced at her. “And avoided the obvious minefield of Scott's interest–”

  “I've been dodging the interest of uninteresting men for most of my life, sweetheart. I'm a succubus. It's not difficult.”

  “I imagine not, back in the day. How many men did you kill–?”

  She sighed. “That's not the only way to rid yourself of a man's unwanted affections.”

  “You're not supposed to drain the interest and memories out of them anymore, either.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her lip. “Oh, was that off limits with Scott? I was going to follow your example.”

  Ouch. “Savage,” I said, turning on my phone to check if Harry had called me back. He hadn't. “But fair, I guess.”

  “I'm not usually both those things, so don't get used to it.” She turned into a tree-lined neighborhood, following my pointed directions.

  “About that,” I said. “Could you be a little nicer to Reed? I sense he's on edge.”

  Lethe's eyes narrowed. “I'll be as nice to him as he is to me.”

  “I'm going to need you to be nicer than that.” I sighed, putting away my phone. “This is going to be a tough time for him. We need to work some things out about who's in charge, because he's probably going to want me to take over in some ways, but he's unlikely to want to surrender control.”

  She raised one eyebrow in surprise. “That's a keen insight and a hell of a dilemma. How are you going to solve it?”

  “Let him control as much or as little as he wants,” I said, hammering out a quick text message. “I don't care if I'm in charge of the agency.”

  “That's because you're secure in knowing that if he is in charge, and gives you an order you don't like, you're just going to do what you want anyway.”

  “Yeah, I wonder where I got that from,” I said, powering off my phone.

  “Probably your father's side of the family,” she said, almost completely straitlaced. Almost. She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, just come to the office whenever you get up and moving,” I said, pocketing my phone and grabbing my bag out of the back of her rental. “I'm sure it'll be a slow day, so I'll probably spend it catching up on...whatever. I haven't run an agency in so long I don't entirely recall what goes into it anymore. I think it's pretty boring.” I paused, thinking. “Or maybe those memories were stolen. Hard to say.”

  “I would suggest stocking better coffee for a start.”

  “You read my mind,” I said, giving her a quick smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  She waved as I shut the door, then slowly backed out of the driveway. I turned to the luxurious house, brick and stucco with a giant maple planted squarely in the front yard. It was big and green and shading this perfect suburban scene. A little breeze rustled its branches as I stood there for a moment, taking it all in.

  With a slow, measured tread I walked up the front steps. This was nicer than anywhere I'd called home in the last several years. A perfect suburban McMansion, with the roofline soup and a little stonework to offset the brick a bit.

  When I reached the small front porch, I hesitated before ringing the doorbell.

  Turns out, I didn't need to. My text message had gotten through. The door swung open wide.

  Ariadne Fraser waited, a smile on her face, eyes a little misty. “You made it.”

  “I made it,” I echoed. Then I dropped my bag and we hugged, hugged, hugged for a good five minutes. Then she said the words I didn't even know I'd been wanting to hear:

  “Welcome home.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “That is the best home cooked meal I've had in...like, forever,” I said, reclining on one of two easy chairs facing the TV in Ariadne's expansive family room. Oddly named, since she did not, in fact, have any family save for me.

  “I knew you'd been living the big city takeout lifestyle,” she said, matching my reclining position in her own chair. “Figures you haven't had a pot roast in a while.”

  “Long as you stay away from the meatloaf,” I said.

  She frowned. “I did vaguely recall something about you hating meatloaf, though...I'm not sure when I remember it from.”

  My mirthful feelings disappeared. “So...Dr. Zollers's treatments have been helping you get your memory back?”

  She nodded slowly. “Some. He says there are some things President Harmon took from me that will never return. But others...well, he was hasty when he did the erasure, Zollers said
.”

  “He was president at the time. And trying to conquer the entire world, mentally. He was probably always in a hurry.”

  “I suppose you've seen a little of that life up close,” Ariadne said. “You know, I don't think I ever met Gondry during the brief period I worked in the White House.” She settled in, leaning on her elbow over the recliner's arm, totally focused on me. “What's he like?”

  “He's a good guy, I think.” I nodded, trying to put my opinion into words. “There's a lot I disagree with him about, but...” I shrugged. “He's trying to do what he thinks is right. And he came around in his opinion on me, so...that's nice, since I was really getting tired of everyone in that office wanting to wage war on my ass.”

  “You gonna vote for him in November?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I dunno. Mitchell's looking like she's going to be the nominee to go against him, so it'll depend on what she says. It's not like I was inclined to vote for Harmon even absent the fact he was a douche who was trying to destroy me, and China's about the only thing I agree with Gondry on, so...” I shrugged even more broadly. “If she ends up becoming a meta-hating asshole, then I'll probably vote for him. If she ends up being an asshole to me, personally, but not meta-hating, my inclination is to vote for her.”

  “We might have to agree to disagree on that one,” she said, eyes sparkling.

  “I think we can survive that,” I said, picking up my glass and forming a half dozen small ice cubes out of the clear water.

  Ariadne watched me do it, blinking. “That...is new.”

  “Maybe you just don't remember it,” I said, trying – and failing – to hide a smirk.

  “I saw Erich Winter do similar feats for years,” she said darkly, “and just about as casually. I think I'd remember if you had his powers. Did you absorb him and I forgot?”

  “No,” I said. “He wanted me to, but...just no.” I shook my head fervently. Violently, even. “This is new...ish. I picked it up in New Orleans last year. Meta case at the time.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don't watch the news that much, but...the assassination thing? Against the governor?”

  “Yeah.” I clinked the ice cubes around in my glass.

  “And they're...with you now?” She pointed at her head.

  “Amazingly quiet most of the time, but...yes. Her name's Brianna Glover.”

  “The Olympian?” Ariadne frowned.

  “Of the Olympic games variety, not Mount Olympus, but yes.”

  “Strange that you felt compelled to differentiate.”

  “My great-grandfather was literally of Mount Olympus, so yes, I have to differentiate these things.”

  Ariadne shook her head in...wonder, I think. “So strange.” She settled back in her chair, raising her glass, which was filled with...not water. I was trying not to think about it, because a drink would have been a real nice way to celebrate the end of my long odyssey.

  “Want some?” I rattled mine again.

  “Please.”

  I froze a good, solid sphere of ice just above the lip of her glass and let it sink in gently, so as not to splash sweet alcohol everywhere. That done, I settled back, too, and let out another long sigh, which felt like the mood of the day. Lots of sighing. In relief, mostly. Maybe exasperation a time or two. “Been seeing anyone special?” I asked.

  Ariadne shook her head. “Not lately. Dating's tough enough at my age when you're straight. When you're of my persuasion...it certainly doesn't feel easier. You?”

  “I've got a boyfriend,” I said, brushing my fingers against my phone. “Steady. Same one for a while. Harry, you remember?”

  “I thought you broke up before you went to prison...?”

  “He faked me out,” I said, lighting up my screen. No messages. “Turns out he couldn't kick the Sienna habit that easy.”

  She waited a few good seconds before responding. “But, also, presumably, you didn't want to kick him?”

  “I don't know,” I said, clicking the phone's screen back off. “He's nice. I like having him around. He's good people. Fun.” I shrugged, a little more expansively than was necessary to convey the point. “He knows when to leave me alone. Knows when I'm mad and how to make it better. That's...that's something, right?”

  Ariadne's eyebrows very slightly rose. “I...guess.”

  “Whatever,” I said, glancing at my phone again, with its lack of alerts and text messages and returned calls and voicemails. “It works.”

  “The clarion call of romance, clearly,” Ariadne said under her breath. “So...what now?”

  “Everyone keeps asking me that.” I ran fingers across the smooth face of the phone, flaring the screen to life again. Still nothing. “Back to business as usual, that's what. I get back to the work I do best, without a boss breathing down my neck or trying to control my every move. Without a government up my ass like a coprophiliac proctologist.”

  She cringed. “God, I hope that's not a thing.”

  “What other field could they go into for ultimate satisfaction? But anyway...I need to get my life back on track. Back to the way things were.” I sighed, this one of hope. “And...I can look into getting my own place. With Harry, y'know.”

  “Sure.” She nodded. “But...you can stay here, too. At least until you get back on your feet.”

  “We'll see,” I said. “When he gets here...I mean, who knows. I just don't want...to crowd your space.”

  “I don't want to crowd you, either,” she said hastily. “But I've got a basement guest suite I never use. And I sleep upstairs, so...the only way you'd bother me is if you're just absurdly loud in the middle of the night.”

  “I'm very quiet in my vocalizations, actually. Drives Harry nuts, I think. He's always complaining I'm too quiet during...well, during.”

  Ariadne's eyes narrowed. “I meant watching TV, but...thanks for that.” She made a face. “Anyway, you're welcome to stay here. Both of you. It's a big house. A little too big for little old me, I think.”

  “It's really nice,” I said. “Maybe we will stay. For a while, at least, until we figure things out.”

  “Sure,” she said. “You probably have a lot...to figure out.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But...thankfully...” I smiled. “...I feel like I finally have the time to do it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Scout

  Fillmore, North Dakota

  The plains were hot and dry, and Scout couldn't recall feeling quite this assailed by the weather before, at least not in recent memory. It was still a little bit before sunrise, and already oh-so-damned hot.

  She wanted to sweat, but it was a dry heat, like the deserts outside Vegas. And it did look a little like desert, too, the golden prairie grass the only color until it met the horizon.

  “This is gonna be lit,” Francine said, eyes aglow. “Literally lit.” She made a sound that Scout's brain translated as the real life equivalent of LOL – a guffaw that wasn't all that “out loud,” but was in response to something as funny as the things that made people LOL.

  “Burn it all down, baby,” AJ agreed, nodding along, his blond dreds bouncing in agreement. They'd taken a rental car here from the hotel, and now the dry grass waved outside the windows, which were all down.

  “We will,” Isaac said, grinning. They all looked to him. All listened.

  A dozen metal pumps were rolling just over the oil field fence, moving in tandem like hammers rising and falling, ripping their oh-so-precious oil out of the earth so it could be chemically treated, then burned and released into the atmosphere like the poison it was. A tower lay over the fence, behind the pumps. A metal frame over a central shaft, it was probably used like Scout had seen it on TV – to spray oil into the cerulean sky while a bunch of piggish workers celebrated below, dancing under the fountain of their 'black gold.'

  The thought made her sick to her stomach.

  “You're ready, right?” Isaac looked to Francine.

  She nodded, then popped open her door.
It sounded like a gunshot in the early morning dark, at least to Scout.

  “You two wait here,” Isaac said, slipping out. He nodded to AJ and Scout in turn. “Provide cover if we need it.” He didn't even really look at Scout for more than a second, but she could feel the spark between them even so.

  “Got it,” AJ said, racking back the slide on the AK-47 – well, that was what he'd called it – that he'd brought with him. He was quick with it, too. And more accurate than his plasma bursts.

  Scout sat back and watched, huddled in the back seat of the Ford Edge. It wouldn't have been her first choice – she would have preferred something electric – but it was what they had. And it'd do. Sacrifices had to be made in the name of change.

  She rested her fingers against the glass as she looked out into the early morning twilight that lay draped across the Dakota plains like a blanket over a sleeping form. Almost everyone was sleeping, too – except some of these oil workers. They were moving in and out between a couple of the pumps, doing some kind of maintenance. More of them were over by the well – the tower thing. She didn't know enough about the oil field to really understand.

  Scout just knew that this exploitation, like so many things, needed to end.

  “Ready?” Isaac's muffled voice carried, her meta hearing granting it perfect clarity even through the car's window.

  Francine nodded, and Isaac put his hands under her arms, grasping her across the chest, under her breasts.

  Scout felt a twinge watching them; he didn't mean anything by it, wrapping his arms around her that way. It needed to be done, so he could pick Francine up. Still, Scout's stomach turned a loop watching him.

  They lifted off, rising into the air – ten feet high, then twenty. Isaac had a good grip on Francine, and they rose up – now a hundred feet in the air, above those pumps, hovering–

  She heard Isaac give the muffled order, but couldn't tell what it was. She knew it was given, though, because Francine–