Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39)

by Robert J. Crane

  Reed grunted, eyes rolling in disgust, dismay, or some combo of those feelings. “True enough.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Lethe's not a bad influence on me, okay? She was more or less out of the game, hanging in Revelen, waiting for me to call, until Hades decided to get aggressive in his plans for me and the world. She's not the problem here. She's reformed.” I took a deep breath. “It's me you ought to worry about fouling things.”

  “Oh, I am.”

  I cocked my head at him. “You douchebag.” I caught another curious look from the kid across the aisle, and a withering one from his mom. “Sorry.” Then I looked pointedly at Reed. “Not for calling you that. Just for being overheard by young ears.”

  “Of course,” he said, picking up the in-flight magazine and beginning to thumb through it.

  “I'd ask if we could put a pin in this family quarrel,” I said, switching to meta-low voice so as not to poison little minds if I kept swearing at my brother, which seemed a virtual certainty, “but I think you've already proven that we can't. So let's hash out all the grievances, big brother. Give me your gripes.”

  “My gripes are too long to list,” he said, also meta-low, “and this is hardly the time or the forum.” He must have seen me stubbornly staring at him, refusing to relent, because he added, “Jamal and Augustus are right behind us.”

  “We are definitely not listening to every word y'all are saying,” Augustus said, also meta-low. Jamal flicked him, loudly.

  “You tired?” I asked, staring right at Reed.

  He looked over at me, measuredly. “Of course.”

  I pulled the pillow and blanket that I'd shoved beneath my seat and ripped open the plastic wrapping, shoving the little pillow under my head with some violence and then spreading the blanket over me. “Dreamwalk. Now.”

  He looked like he was on the verge of arguing, but stopped himself. Finally, he nodded. “Dreamwalk,” he agreed, and tilted his seat back just a little – hopefully not enough to draw the wrath of a flight attendant, but enough he wouldn't have to sleep with his head upright.

  “Boring,” Augustus muttered, earning another loud flick from Jamal. “Ow! Stop that.”

  “Butt out,” Jamal said.

  “Fine, I'm sleeping, too. Wake me if they start arguing out loud again.”

  I put my head against the pillow and the pillow against the bulkhead. Seconds later, I was out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  “Okay, let's just do this thing,” I said as soon as my brother had appeared, solid and whole, in the dreamwalk with me. He looked about as tired and wary as he had before we'd fallen asleep, but he was a little more put together here, in the unreal world. “Cards on the table. Both barrels of the shotgun. Lemme have i–”

  “How many deals with the devil did you make to get out from underneath the Network?” Reed asked.

  I shut up. Thought about it. “You looking for an exact tally here?”

  His eyes were deep brown and penetrating, even in the darkness of the dreamwalk. “Yes. How many bad people did you enlist in your crusade to wipe those assholes out and get yourself free?”

  “Uhmm,” I said, pretending to think it over, “I don't know exactly – 37.5?”

  He gave me as unserious a look as befitted my answer. “Truly?”

  “I don't think about it in those terms,” I said. “I offered favors to some people–”

  “Which people?” Reed asked.

  “Why is this important right now?”

  “Because if we're in business together,” Reed said, “your debts might be used as leverage against us both. That thing you did for Cassidy, to get her help with your phone? What was it, exactly?”

  “I might have aided and abetted her in completing some already-in-progress criminal activity,” I said. “Or at least turned a blind eye to its completion.”

  “Are you square with her now, or do you owe her more?”

  “We're square,” I said, probably not as convincingly as I could have been. Not because I wasn't more or less even with Cassidy, but because I had a bad feeling about what she was planning to do with the stuff she'd stolen, and was actively ignoring my conscience every time it popped up in the 4 a.m. playlist of Things I've Done Wrong in my Life.

  “Who else?”

  I blew air between my lips. “Mm, I don't know. Veronika. Greg Vansen. ArcheGrey1819. Hades. Persephone. Dr. Zollers–”

  “You dragged Zollers into it?”

  “Zollers dragged himself into it,” I said. “Or at least that's my understanding. Besides, we're probably good.” I ignored that squirming feeling in my stomach that told me no. “I mean, I did save him from Century back in the day. I could coast on that with him for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Reed said, “then when you boil it down, really, you just owe favors to two former assassins, the world's worst and most prolific hacker, and the old God of Death. Leaving out your closer relations, obviously–”

  “Obviously.”

  “–because your grandma and great-grandma–”

  “Mimaw. She wants to be called Mimaw.”

  “–because the two of them definitely don't want anything from you in return. Right?” He leaned closer to me. “And that's it? That's the whole list?”

  “Harry might be in there,” I said. “Somewhere.”

  “Great, now we both owe Harry,” Reed said. “Fantastic. Anyone else?”

  “Not that I recall,” I said. “Wait! Senator Foreman.”

  Reed sagged. “I hate owing politicians.”

  “He's retired from politics.”

  Reed looked daggers at me. “He's still an incredibly powerful empath. And if he says he's retired from politics, he's lying. The man has a lot of power in his party. He was their nominee four years ago, in case you forgot.”

  “That's not one of the memories Rose took, if that's what you're asking.”

  He made a face. “That's a hell of a list.”

  “It's also my problem, not yours.”

  “Like I said, we're in business together,” Reed said. “It's both our problems, now. I get that you wanted to keep us out of the dirty work–”

  “It was really more like 'wet work.'”

  He sighed. “Yeah. It really was.”

  “Would you have wanted any part of it?” I asked. “Killing people extrajudiciously, on Harry's say so? On the evidence of text on a screen, read through a specialty app? Trusting that we were matching the right person to the words that incriminated them?”

  “Did you trust in all that?” he asked wearily.

  “I did,” I said. “But I trust Harry. You don't. And the only thing that would have made you trust him in that instance was watching his predictions come true, one by one. But those predictions all involved bodies hitting the floor.”

  “That's such a load of–”

  “Reed, they tried to kill the president,” I said. “Veronika was in their circle jerk the entire time. Taking orders direct from Chapman.”

  He gave me a steely look. “Then why couldn't she just stop him? Before it started?”

  “Because then she's guilty of murder,” I said. “Instead, we did a little dosey-do, played them for a while to let them show us how bad they really were, they all ended up dead, no one else got hurt, and Veronika got a secret presidential commendation – off the record, of course – at my request.”

  “I'm sure that's good for a free medium fry next time she orders at McDonald's.”

  “It's good for allowing her to make a phone call to mitigate trouble the next time she lands in it with the feds,” I said. “I had this argument with Harry, you know. I didn't just let him lead me blindly into it. I played it out as long as I could, trying to find the legal way to deal with them. Didn't work.”

  “According to Harry.”

  “Again...you're not going to trust his word, but you're wondering why I didn't invite you in on this?”

  He made a sour face. “No, I see why, now. But I still hate it.”


  “It's pretty binary,” I said. “You don't want to get on the dirty side of the line. You don't want to trust Harry's vision of the future. Pair that with me not wanting to get you dirty, or wanting to put you in the line of fire with the Network? There's your answer. That's why I dealt with the devils I know and dealt you out.”

  “I still don't like it.”

  “Get over it, Reed,” I said. “We're not in every aspect of each other’s lives.”

  He made dagger eyes at me. “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We are not the same person. There are boundaries in our relationship. There should be. That's healthy. I don't get into bed with you and the good doctor, for instance–”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “–no matter what those evil tabloids say, and I don't invite you to give me relationship advice about Harry, because you don't really like him. Fine. Now I'm out.” I shrugged. “And now I'm fine with trying to play by rules that are comfortable with you.”

  “Really?” he stared hard at me. “Where were you and Augustus last night?”

  I felt a tightness in my chest as I sucked in a heavy breath. “Okay. That's...that's a fair question.” I sighed it all out. “We were out flying around, putting out as many of the fires as we could.”

  Reed squinted at me, and I tried to decide what he was thinking, because he was quiet for some very long seconds. Finally, he said, “Good for you.” And he sounded like he meant it.

  “I didn't want to put you in an uncomfortable position by having you tell me not to,” I said. “That's why we didn't tell you.”

  “I don't approve of that,” Reed said softly. “If I'm going to be the leader, you can't do things behind my back like that. But...” He bowed his head, then nodded. “It was a good move. If I'd been feeling better, I'd have liked to join you.”

  “I'll keep that in mind in the future,” I said. “Look...Reed...I know where your lines are, okay? Ethically, I mean. I don't want to push you past them–”

  “And I don't want you pushing yourself past them,” he said, very forcefully. “We have kept this agency going by staying on the right side of the law in whatever state we're working. By not deviating from their expectations, or accepting private contracts, or doing any of the other things that might make our lives easier and more expedient but could ultimately lead to...well, massive headaches, if not complete shutdown.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know. And I'm not trying to mess with that. I want to play by the rules. But–”

  “But if you see a real bad villain,” he said, “you might break those rules to nail them to the wall.”

  “I'm going to try real hard not to,” I said. “But...if they're that bad? Like, world ending bad? Destroying human lives bad? Driving an innocent woman to suicide and trying to kill the president bad?” I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I'm probably going to whack them. I'll look for another way first, but...don't expect me to just sit by and watch evil people do evil shit as they hide behind the letter of the law. I'm not capable of that.”

  “I never said you were,” Reed said. “I never even thought it.”

  “That just means you know me.”

  “A little too well, I think, sometimes,” Reed said ruefully. Just full of rue, he was. He leaned in close to me, and even in the dreamwalk, I could feel the heat of his breath. “We just got you back, Sienna. Put aside this power struggle thing, put aside the philosophical arguments between us – I don't want to lose you again.” He leaned over, putting his forehead right on my shoulder. Hell of a lean for my brother, who was a lot taller than me. “I don't want to lose you again...ever.”

  “I know,” I said, snaking my arms around him, enfolding him in a hug that he reciprocated. “I know. But...” I pulled back from him. “You know that if it ever comes to down to choosing what's right, and what's lawful–”

  “You will bust the law into a million itty-bitty pieces,” Reed said, looking a little teary, all traces of his anger gone. “I do admire that about you. That certainty to act.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I had that.”

  “Awwww,” I said, patting him. “Don't say that.”

  “Why not?”

  I shot him a sly grin. “Because one of us has to uphold the honor of the Treston family name for Dad, and since you're the one who's carrying it, it's really gotta be you. The Nealon name is just a placeholder thing anyway. Friday could carry that one forward with all the dignity and aplomb he can muster.”

  Reed frowned. “That...that's literally zero. He can muster zero.”

  “Whatever, I don't care,” I said, brushing my hand across his face. “I'll play as nice as I can. For you. For everybody, really. I want to do good. Be good. Being an outlaw is not solid ground to do this job. Still, my best is all I can offer, though.”

  “I just worry,” Reed said. “That it's not going to be enough.”

  “Well,” I said, mopping at unreal tears that felt very real, “if it's not...we'll leap off that bridge when we get there.”

  He made a sour face, but he seemed a lot more relaxed than when we'd started this conversation. “Lucky for us, you can fly, huh?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  We touched down in Houston to an unsurprisingly small amount of fanfare, but there was fanfare nonetheless. A woman shorter and stockier than me was waiting in plainclothes, but clearly a cop, and she looked like she'd had as little sleep as I had. The moment we were off the plane she came at the four of us like a guided missile. “Mr. Treston, Ms. Nealon, I'm Elaine Wodehouse, Texas Department of Public Safety. Metahuman Section.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Wodehouse,” Reed said, shifting his cell phone so he could take her outstretched hand.

  “We were apprised of your arrival by media reports,” Wodehouse said, thrusting her hand at me. I shook it, quickly. It was a little clammy. “The governor has made it clear we're to give you all the leeway there is.” Her accent really kicked in at the last. This lady was pure Texas. “So...what can DPS do to help you?”

  Reed looked gobsmacked in the most pleasant possible way. “We got a tip that the North Dakota eco-terrorists were heading down here.”

  Wodehouse nodded sharply. “We heard.” She jerked her head toward the exit. “Got any luggage?”

  “No, ma'am,” Reed said.

  “I can take you to HQ,” she said. “We thought that might be the reason for your arrival, and so the director called in all hands last night. We're up to our eyeballs in a threat assessment, but all we've got to work on is what North Dakota has released, which ain't much. A lot of blanks there.”

  “We'll fill in what we can,” Reed said. “Did they release any suspect names yet?”

  Wodehouse shook her head. “If they've got 'em, they're keeping 'em off the table.” She strode along the terminal double-time, her little legs working to maintain her lead. I sympathized. It was a short girl problem. “They say the fires are out now, though. So at least there's that.”

  “Some good news at last,” Reed said dryly, throwing me a look. He checked his cell phone. “Scott's two hours out.”

  “Oh,” I said, remembering that I probably had an angry text message waiting. I powered up my phone as we walked, and it skipped right over the normal boot-up screen, a neat little detail Cassidy had programmed in. Whenever I destroyed this one – and like Thanos, it was inevitable – I was going to be really sad to go back to a normal, off-the-shelf phone.

  My grandmother's reply popped up a few seconds later: Okay. On my way.

  I frowned. That was it? I'd expected...well, an ass chewing, frankly.

  “The director said to tell you it's a pleasure to have you back in Texas,” Wodehouse said. She was looking directly at Reed.

  My brother blushed a little. “It's always nice working with Texas,” he said. “You guys make hunting bad guys easy.” He shook his head, probably thinking of the trouble we'd just had in North Dakota.

  My phone pinged, voicemail alert flaring to life.
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  “Ah,” I muttered, “she left behind the format of text and sent me a yelling message with her voice.”

  “What?” Augustus asked, trailing slightly behind me, Reed, and Fast-Walking Wodehouse. Poor girl was practically running.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just an angry message from my grandmother.” I put the phone to my ear as the voicemail message came over the speaker. A cool, female voice greeted me – and definitely not my grandmother.

  “Ms. Nealon, this is the White House. President Gondry would like to speak to you immediately, as soon as you get off the plane in Houston. Please return our call...”

  “Oh, damn,” I said, meta-low, but drawing the attention of all three of my colleagues. They didn't have to say anything; I could see Reed's concerned look, and I didn't want to keep him in the dark. “That was the president's secretary requesting a call back from me.” I saw Reed's brow furrow deepen. “I think this case is about to go federal.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  “Sienna,” President Richard Gondry's voice was deep, pleased, and I could almost imagine the man himself smiling on the other end of the line in spite of the circumstances. “I heard you were involved in the current crisis.”

  “Well, when there's a crisis, sir,” I said, jarred in the back of Wodehouse's police SUV as she took a speed bump outside the airport at north of thirty-five, “you can pretty much assume I'm going to be in the mix somehow.”

  “Indeed,” the president said, sounding entirely too amused. “I also hear the fires in North Dakota are mysteriously out.”

  “That's the rumor going around.”

  “Quite the miracle,” the president went on. “As if some angel just flew in and snuffed them out with a wave of a hand.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  “It never is, is it?” The president sighed. “I'll make this brief, because I'm sure you've got things to do. North Dakota is scrabbling over jurisdiction. This case is not federal yet, because other than a couple of tips describing a very strange flight arrangement between some souls journeying south to Texas, we have no confirmation that your perpetrators have crossed state lines.”