Mind Thief

by C. A. Hartman

“I had it under control until you came around, waving your gun like some fucken hero.”

  “Didn’t look like it to me.”

  Hammond ignored him, focusing on the computer. He resumed typing away on the keyboard.

  “So this is it, huh?” the cop said. “This is what you guys do for money, go fishing in people’s minds for information that doesn’t belong to you, then analyze their private selves on a computer like you’re calculating census data?”

  “I ain’t gonna get shit if you don’t stop talkin’.”

  She tried to speak then, but all that came out was a rasp.

  The cop turned and looked at her. He’d heard it.

  His eyes widened and he stood up quickly. “She’s awake.”

  Hammond turned around, eyes trained on her. She didn’t like how they looked at her. Like something was wrong. Like she looked no better than she felt. He stood up.

  When the cop approached the bed, a series of conflicting emotions ran through her. Part of her wanted to trust him, believed she could. But another part of her rebelled at that. Trusting him could be a mistake. Trusting anyone could be a mistake.

  With her hand, she felt for a pocket. Something told her it would contain something useful. Like a weapon. But her pocket was empty.

  She tried to sit up, and found that she had the strength to. The cop drew closer, dark eyes studying her, filled with things she didn’t understand.

  Then, she saw him. On the floor. The angry guy who’d given her that menacing look. He lay there, blood on his smashed-up face, unmoving and pale. Like he was dead.

  Fear overwhelmed her, and before she knew it she was out of bed and on its other side. Away from all of them.

  “It’s okay, Quinn,” the cop said in a soothing tone. “Everything’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t. She didn’t know what the fuck was happening. There was a dead guy on the floor, someone who scared her. Now they all scared her. They might do to her what they’d done to that guy.

  “Stay away from me,” she growled at them, her voice hoarse and her throat dry.

  The cop turned to the tattooed guy. “What’s wrong with her?” he cried.

  “I’m trying to find out. Just… grab her.”

  The cop didn’t move. “No fucking way. Last time I did that she racked me.”

  Hammond approached now, reaching into his pocket. For a weapon.

  Soon, the two men loomed over her, Hammond getting closer. Fear coursed through her like poison, shooting adrenaline through her veins as she poised to fight. She knew she couldn’t beat them, but she wouldn’t go down easy.

  Once Hammond reached for her, she took aim. But he blocked the punch, and it was only a matter of a moment before the two men had her pinned on the bed and something stuffed into her mouth to muffle her screams.

  She felt a sharp pinch in her arm, and soon she struggled no more.

  Chapter 37

  A voice. A male voice. Definitely a Downtownie, talking but receiving no answers.

  “I don’t know, man. I ain’t ever had to restore memories before.” Pause. “Dunno. Only time’ll tell.” Pause. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Pause. “Alright, see ya.”

  The phone. Someone was talking on the phone.

  Quinn opened her eyes.

  It was dark. Everything was dark. But then she noticed light coming from the window, the glow of city lights. She was on her bed, in her apartment. She sat up, trying to figure out how she got here.

  In the soft light from the window, she spotted a man in cargoes and a tank top lying on a portable cot.

  “Jones.”

  Jones started, then sat straight up. He stared at her for a moment. “Hey, girl.” He stood up and turned on a lamp. “You know where you are?”

  “My apartment. In Midtown.”

  He nodded, looking hopeful. But suddenly she felt scared. Like so much had happened… and she couldn’t recall any of it.

  “What’s going on?” she cried.

  Jones sat on the corner of her bed. “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’ve been mindjacked.”

  “What happened?”

  “You remember anything?”

  Quinn ran through her thoughts. “No,” she replied, a fresh wave of fear gripping her.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  As if on cue, flashes ran through her mind. “Yolanda and the spec ops guys taking my equipment. Arguing with Noah and…” She grimaced. “Punching him in the nuts because he wouldn’t let me go. I had something important to do…” She paused, trying to sort through too many thoughts. “I got away. Then I was at headquarters. I knocked and knocked and those assholes wouldn’t open the goddamned door.” More thoughts came at her in random order. Olmos’s house. Getting fired. Fighting in the desert. Running, escaping…

  “You remember callin’ Yolanda?”

  The burner. The messages. “Yeah, but I couldn’t get through. The service was out again.” Jones nodded eagerly, as if he liked what he heard. “But I don’t remember why I was calling her.”

  “To tell her what you found. At Olmos’s house in the desert.”

  Olmos. More images came. Olmos on the floor, out cold. Others, familiar faces. Hatch, Halstead, the mayor…

  “It’s so jumbled,” she said, worry returning. “That’s not like me.”

  Jones shook his head. “Don’t be worryin’ now. After what you been through, be glad you remember anything. You remember the important stuff, and I suspect some more’ll come back to you later.”

  Quinn nodded, calming a little. At that moment, for the first time in her life, she understood the cops’ desire to nail mindjackers as well as the harsh punishments for those who got pinched. They wanted to prevent anyone from feeling like she did at that moment, or worse.

  She also understood Noah’s hatred of mindjackers now. His anger at her.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said. “Every detail.”

  Jones told her everything. The aborted Olmos job. Her getting fired. Her going rogue and heading back to Olmos’s place with black market equipment. Finding out Olmos and Halstead and the rest were collaborating with the Jays. Her narrow escape, her calls to Yolanda. Running into Noah, heading home. Some of the memories she already had, others resurfaced when Jones mentioned them.

  “Wait,” she said. “How do you know all this? You weren’t there.”

  “I got some of it from right there.” He pointed at her head. “The rest I got from Yolanda and—”

  Quinn closed her eyes, remembering more. “Fuck. Please tell me Yolanda doesn’t know about this. I already violated their rules by removing my tracking device and going back to Olmos’s. If she knows everything else, I’ll have an enemy for life, especially since I lost the evidence…”

  Jones shook his head. “She ain’t your enemy, Quinn. She called after you tried callin’ her. Guess one of them messages got through, or part of one anyway, ‘cause she said you warned her about some trap. She didn’t know what you meant—the line cut—but she had me and Perry goin’ after Olmos and she pulled us, told us to go to the safe house. And from what I saw in that head of yours, thank the fucken devil she did. That woulda been a disaster of huge proportions.”

  Quinn nodded, trying to process it all. “But… how did we wind up here?”

  Jones let out a sigh, eyeing her. “You weren’t returnin’ my calls. I knew you were up to no good, so after Yolanda called I headed here to find you myself.” He paused. “And that’s when shit got interesting.”

  Quinn waited, knowing in this case interesting wasn’t a good thing.

  “I broke into your place, and found some guy jackin’ you. You were both beat to hell, like you’d given him a good fight.”

  Devin.

  Fragments of their fight returned, making her shudder. Jones continued, telling her about his brawl with Devin, then Noah showing up.

  “When that cop walked in the door, I thought… fuck. I’m done, goin’ to the clink. I figured
you’d pissed him off so much he decided to raid your place for evidence, and would find plenty of it. Well, shit got off to a rough start… he shot the guy who was jackin’ you, the guy who I figured had some answers, you know? Anyway, he finally said some shit that made me listen. He knew you were in trouble and he knew you were bein’ stalked, and he figured out that the stalker was your neighbor. Turns out the fucker’s a Black Jay. Had a tattoo and everything.”

  She nodded. Devin always wore a watch to cover his tattoo, faked that limp… and she didn’t see it. A cold wave ran through Quinn at remembering him, at all of it. The black butterfly. The notes in Noah’s writing, copied from when he’d stolen her original art. The messages. His befriending her. And his strange intensity that had never seemed quite right. He’d been her tormentor the whole time, waiting to make his move until his odds of success were maximized.

  “Did he rape me?”

  Jones hesitated. “No.”

  “Don’t lie. I need to know the truth, no matter how bad.”

  “He didn’t. I don’t know if he didn’t get the chance, or maybe he just threatened it to scare you. Fucker knew which button to push.”

  An uncomfortable silence ensued. Jones had seen things. Too much. Again, she understood what victims of mind thieves must feel like.

  Finally, Quinn said, “Where’s Devin now?”

  “Dead. Beyond that, dunno. Noah took care of it.” He shook his head. “That little fucker could fight.”

  “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “So Noah shot him, which means you got no data. After all that.”

  “I got some before we lost him. I had to go in myself, and put Noah in charge of pullin’ me out…” He shook his head. “I tell you what, I got a whole new respect for you. The Devin guy had training, and that was some messed-up shit I had to deal with in there. Good thing is, after takin’ a beating from you and then me, then gettin’ shot, his defenses were down. Didn’t have much time to look at what I got from him before you woke up that first time.”

  “First time?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t remember any of us. I spent all yesterday and last night restoring the memories Devin thieved from you.”

  Quinn stared at Jones. “Restoring the memories? You can do that?”

  He shrugged. “Guess so.”

  Quinn sat there in disbelief. She’d downloaded memories, wiped memories… but to take them and then give them back? It was unheard of. And Jones had not only decided to try it, he had managed to make it work. And then acted like it was nothing.

  That was Jones. He looked like a big dumb thug, but he was turning out to be the smartest person she knew.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “after that—”

  Before he could even finish his sentence, Quinn went over and threw her arms around Jones. She was so overwhelmed by all of it, but at that moment all she could think about was the hundred reasons she had to be grateful for Jones. He’d saved her life again. He’d gone out of his way for her… again.

  Jones hesitated for a moment, unprepared for the assault, but then put his arms around her. Quinn blinked a couple of tears away as she pulled back.

  “I’m sorry, Jones.”

  “For what?”

  “For not trusting you. For not letting you help me. I just… I’ve learned to rely only on myself. It’s a hard habit to break.”

  “Trust don’t come easy to people like us. I’d be the same way if I didn’t have my family. They remind me of what’s important.” He paused. “But it ain’t me you should be apologizin’ to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That cop boyfriend of yours has a bruised set of nuts, thanks to you. Turns out he was tryin’ to help you too.”

  Quinn closed her eyes as that memory resurfaced, shame spreading through her. Then she thought of another question. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. You said Noah figured out Devin had been stalking me. How is that possible?”

  “That’s between you and him.” He eyed her. “And by the way, I told you so.”

  “Told me what?”

  “He’s still into you.”

  A strange feeling seeped through her. For once, she didn’t feel the need to argue with Jones. She didn’t recall when, or how, but somehow she came to see the truth about how Noah felt about her… and how she felt about him.

  Jones spoke again. “Now that we’ve gone over the whole thing, you remember anything else now? Like what happened when you linked with Devin?”

  A tiny light seemed to go on in some dark recess of her mind. “Only fragments. At best. I saw faces… and Devin was talking to me.” She lit up. “The guy I fought at Linden’s place… he was Devin’s little brother, on his first job.”

  “Explains why he was after you. And Pablo said that guy wasn’t a player.”

  “Oh, and I think Devin killed the Lindens.” Then, another memory. “I saw Noah’s father.”

  “What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “He was jacked once, by mind thieves. Ruined his career. And—” Quinn concentrated as hard as she could, her mind reaching for something like a hand reached for curtains, waiting to yank them open and see the world outside. But she couldn’t get there, and slapped her bed with both hands. “God damn it! It was something important, but I can’t remember!”

  “It’s alright. We got enough.”

  Quinn shook her head in frustration. She was glad to have her memory restored, but it drove her nuts knowing that key pieces of a puzzle were missing, especially when that puzzle had so much riding on it.

  Before Quinn could say anything more, she heard beeping. There was a click, and she realized someone was opening her door. Quinn looked around frantically for a weapon, hoping Jones had one on him.

  When the door opened, Quinn stared.

  It was Noah.

  Chapter 38

  Noah’s eyes landed on Quinn immediately, and her stomach swirled with a perplexing mixture of nervousness and relief. He wore slacks with a light jacket, under which Quinn knew was a holster with weapons. He was on duty. Noah glanced at Jones and offered a brief nod before shutting the door.

  Jones took his cue and left Quinn’s bedside. The two men exchanged a longer look, and Jones nodded at him, as if to say she was in better shape than last time Noah had seen her.

  “I’ll be next door,” Jones said.

  Once Jones closed the door, she turned back to Noah. He sat down in the chair Jones had occupied, pulling it just a little closer to her. Now, she didn’t see a jacker cop or the man she’d fought with for weeks. She only saw the man she’d fallen ass over cactus for and never quite recovered… and who’d helped protect her.

  “Hi.” She hoped she didn’t look too terrible, after everything.

  “How are you?” Noah asked, brown eyes watching her closely, briefly scanning the rest of her, as if to ensure she was okay.

  “Tired.”

  “I guess a few knock-down drag-outs and a mindjacking from an angry psychopath will take it out of you. Not to mention assaulting an officer of the law.” He smiled a little.

  But Quinn didn’t laugh. “I’m so sorry, Noah. For hurting you like that. I—”

  “It’s alright. I know now what was at stake that night.”

  “How did you know? About Devin? About all of it?”

  “It’s what I do, Quinn. It’s called police work.”

  She shook her head. “Tell me the truth.”

  Noah took a deep breath, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ve seen some bad stuff in my time, but that night at Linden’s place… something about that seemed really off, the same way Tony Borelli’s death and those violent jackings were off. These weren’t your everyday mindfuckers. Anyway, between you tracking Carlson and the information you fed me—including what you wouldn’t say—I knew you were being hunted, in addition to facing some enemy organization. And when I saw you at the ballgame, with…” He motioned with his head toward the floor, where Devin
had probably been. “Call it cop’s sense, but I knew there was something wrong with that guy the moment I laid eyes on him. So I watched you guys, waited for him to throw out his drink cup, and scraped it for DNA. I ran it and didn’t get any matches, so I let it go. But once I started to see the big picture, I ran it against the samples we took from those stiffs at Linden’s and found a sibling match. Then I knew what kind of trouble you were in.”

  He paused, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “I went looking for him, but couldn’t find him. Then we got the alert from Hector Olmos’s place. I suspected you were involved, and talking to you only confirmed it.”

  “How’d you wind up here?”

  “You wouldn’t listen, so I needed to find someone who would.”

  “Jones.”

  He shook his head. “Too risky.”

  Quinn frowned, trying to figure out who else Noah could get key information from. Then, her jaw dropped. “You leaned on my dad?”

  “Didn’t have to. He gave it up pretty easily.”

  She shook her head. “That’s impossible. My dad doesn’t trust anybody. Especially not cops.”

  “I made a convincing case.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure you did.”

  Noah chuckled at that. But then the brow wrinkle returned, worse this time. “I saw those images, Quinn. The ones he sent you. You should have said something.”

  “I know.”

  He looked surprised at that. “You’re agreeing with me? Jesus, you are in bad shape.”

  Quinn reached over and slapped his knee, and Noah laughed.

  “Look, Quinn. I know I can be pushy. But the more I know—about what you saw, what happened—the more I can put the department’s resources behind nailing these assholes to the wall—”

  “I saw your father.”

  He stared at her, eyes hardening. “What?”

  “I saw him, when Devin jacked me. Which means Devin was one of the mind thieves who attacked your dad. And it makes sense, given that they seem to be targeting powerful people—”

  Noah blinked a couple of times. “What do you remember?”

  “Not much. Just them attacking him and jacking in.”