by Alex Hughes
“Maybe. We’ve still got the issue with Fiske. And the rookie.”
“No maybe about it. You’re a good cop, Isabella. You know that, I know that, and the department knows that. Plus, you’re cost-effective, and you get the job done. With Michael helping out, if anything your close rate has gone up. I’d bring up all of that too. Enough stories, the money going the right way, you become the poster child for a well-run police department. They have to understand that. They will.” I added the last firmly, trying to get myself to believe it.
After a pause: “I hate politics, Adam.”
“I know.”
“They’re . . . this brutality thing, if it sticks . . .”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I protested, into the silence in the dark hallway. “Nothing wrong!”
“If it sticks, I’ll never live it down.”
And there was my worst fear made reality. She was scared. Given enough time, in person, she’d probably tell me that directly—I was a telepath, after all, and could reasonably be expected to know already. A lifetime in the cop world meant it wouldn’t be easy for her to admit, though, not even to herself. I felt like I had to say something, anything, to make it better.
“You know how Swartz has another wise thing to say in pretty much every situation?” I asked her, desperate.
“He has a saying for when you’re called up in front of Internal Affairs?” Clear disbelief was in her tone.
“Well, no. But remember the last time I lost my job with the department?”
“You mean two months ago?”
“Not November, before that. Three years ago.”
“Oh. Yeah. You’re lucky Paulsen likes you or I never would have gotten you rehired after you fell off the wagon again. Even if you did get through rehab with a recommendation.”
Ouch. “I got through rehab with a recommendation from the center director to the captain. Personally.”
“I still had to beg,” she said.
She was in a royal mood today, clearly. But with what was happening to her, maybe that was okay. “The point is that I didn’t know what was going to happen, and it all seemed like it was going to fall apart. Swartz sat me down and waited with me. Do you know what he said?”
I waited.
Finally: “No. What did he say?”
“He said courage is not the absence of fear, but doing it past the fear. And that faith was stepping out when things were uncertain. ‘Builds character,’ he said. ‘Do it anyway.’ And I did.”
After a moment: “Easy to say when you know the ending.”
“Yeah,” I said, and realized I’d just given myself part of the answer I needed, completely by accident. Maybe. I still felt uncertain, and afraid, and was facing things I didn’t really know how to face. Sibley scared me, and the thought of him threatening Tommy too . . .
“I’m nervous,” she said, meaning she was scared. I hated hearing her scared, and I hated not knowing what would happen, or how she’d react to the worst, if it came out.
“You know I’d do anything if I could take the blame for this one, right?”
“They’ve already cut you back to part-time and docked your pay twice after the rehire,” she said. “But they can’t blame a teep for having a vision. They can’t do anything else to you.”
She knew I hated the derogatory term for telepath, and her using it felt personal. I swallowed my protest. Instead I repeated, “You didn’t do anything wrong, and they’ll figure that out. I have faith.” And I’d find a way to have faith in my own situation. I had to. It wasn’t like Cherabino could really tell me how to deal with a vision. It wasn’t her specialty any more than canvassing a neighborhood was mine.
“That makes one of us,” she said.
“You’re not alone,” I said, one of the first things they teach you to say in the Twelve Steps program. But I felt alone, and I’m sure she did too.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” I thought about whether to tell her about Sibley, and then decided I had to. “There’s a connection in this case to one of our old nemeses,” I said.
“What?”
“Sibley. Remember him?”
“It’s not like I could forget that guy. It’s just weird. No one uses the word ‘nemesis.’ Isn’t he still in jail?” she asked.
“Obviously not,” I said.
She made a frustrated sound. “We worked our asses off to get him in jail. Hell, some good cops bled to get him there. I’ll ask Michael to track it down. I’m not supposed to be working active cases right now, but—”
“You’re getting Michael to keep working them anyway,” I finished for her. “He probably needs the experience in working something on his own anyway.”
I could almost see her blink, shifting gears all of a sudden. “Well, yes. And I’m not letting that son of a bitch walk around without me having something to say about it.”
“I just . . .”
“What?”
I had to talk to someone. I had to. “You know the thing I didn’t put in the report with Sibley?”
“Yeah. . . .” She seemed cautious.
I hadn’t put Sibley’s device in the report because I knew that kind of mind-control thing was not only illegal, but might start an active panic with the normals. I’d reported it to the Guild like I was supposed to, but there was no way of knowing how far they’d gotten. Sibley hadn’t had it when he was taken into custody. I didn’t know where the thing was.
“Well, if it happens again—and I don’t know whether it will—I’m not sure whether I can do my job here. He almost killed me last time, Cherabino.”
“Oh.” She seemed tired all of a sudden; I couldn’t tell if that was whatever Link between our minds finally letting her emotions echo, or whether I was dreaming that emotion up, or projecting it from my own experience. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Do you have a knife or something?” It was illegal for me to carry a gun and we both knew it.
“No,” I said, “there wasn’t time when I left Atlanta.”
“Well, see if they’ll get you one, okay? Having a holdout weapon has saved my life more than once.”
I’d been there for one of those times. “I’ll ask,” I said, even though it would hurt to admit I needed a weapon. My mind was normally all the weapon I needed, but I’d do whatever it took to protect Tommy and get us both out of this. I’d rather have her here, though. I’d rather she be here to carry the weapons. I missed her.
She yawned, loudly.
I wanted so much then to lean on her, to talk about the case. I wanted to lean on her, to involve her, just to be with her. But she was under one of the worst stresses in the world right now, and I couldn’t add to that. No matter how much it hurt.
I did the noble thing then. “I’ve got an early morning,” I said. “I need to go.”
“Okay,” she said, and yawned again.
I hung up, but it took every ounce of strength I had, and it left me alone. I wanted the drug then. I wanted it, but I couldn’t have it. And that hurt too.
* * *
The next morning I was woken by a ringing phone. I lifted my head from the cushion, and my whole body creaked.
“Wha?” I said.
Tommy stood over me. “The phone’s ringing,” he said.
I mumbled something. I felt like I’d hardly slept at all.
“Aren’t you going to get it?” he asked.
“Get what?”
“The phone.” He sighed and went over to pick it up himself, but it stopped ringing on its own before he touched it. He frowned at it.
I sat up, bones hurting against the hardwood floor, and ran my hands through my hair. A pile of files were fanned out in a messy pile next to the phone. My late-night reading.
“Well, go get him!” a bellow came from down the hallway.
>
Mendez, the female FBI agent who’d gone with Tanya to the hospital, trotted down the hallway. “What are you doing with a phone in the hallway?” she asked me, then: “You know what? Never mind, go ahead and pick up. Jarrod’s irritated. Who’s calling you anyway?”
“Let’s find out,” I said, and sat up. I picked up the phone, conscious of her standing there and staring at me. Tommy was doing the same from another angle. Observation in stereo, with me having just woken up, my hair doubtlessly cowlicked to perfection. I reminded myself I’d had perfect strangers watch me do far more personal things than talk on the phone.
“Hello?” a man’s voice said on the other side of the line.
I introduced myself. “Who is this?”
“It’s Stone,” he said. “You left a message.”
“Yeah, just letting you know I’m out of town and unavailable for work,” I said, choosing my words carefully with the audience. “It’s unavoidable.”
“You’re out of town. Where?”
I looked at my audience. The city was large enough to make it difficult to find me, and it wasn’t a secret. I hazarded the truth. “Savannah.”
Mendez shook her head.
I shrugged.
“I can find some work for you to do there,” Stone said. “There’s a school—”
I cut him off. “I’m consulting, and will be for the whole week. You asked me to call you when I’ll be out of touch and I did.”
“There’s no need to be rude about it,” he said.
I frowned into the phone. “I’m not being rude. I’m telling you what you asked me to tell you. I’ll call you next week, okay?”
“You still owe the Guild a significant debt,” he said.
Great. Probably the stupid call was being recorded, and certainly I was being watched by Mendez and Tommy. Oh, what the hell? “I’m making payments. You know where to find me. What’s the issue?”
“Debt collector?” Mendez asked, an eyebrow up.
I rolled my eyes and nodded. “I’m making payments,” I said. “Honestly, you’re out of line.”
I felt Stone poke at the tag he’d left in my head.
I forced myself to tolerate it. I didn’t like having someone in my head I hadn’t invited, and between him and the boy and the half-faded Link with Cherabino, my head was getting to be a well-traveled place. “You done?” I finally asked.
“You’re not under duress,” he said quietly.
I was surprised. “No. No, not at all.”
A general sense of acceptance. “If you run into trouble, you can call me,” he said. And then he hung up.
Wait. I could call him? And why would he say so? I was very confused.
“What was that about?” Tommy asked.
“Ask Mendez,” I said. “I need a shower.” I creaked up onto my feet, clothes mussed, and grabbed my bag next to the pallet.
Then I stopped. I could feel his hurt. I sighed and went back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m groggy in the mornings. I don’t feel good. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” I looked over at Mendez. Oh, what the hell. He was a kid, and the rest of his world was falling apart. The least I could do was tell him the truth. I turned only to Tommy, ignoring her. “I made a deal with the medical part of the Guild to save my friend’s life when he couldn’t afford it,” I told him. “It’s a source of ongoing stress, because they want to be paid faster than I can pay them. But my friend is okay now, and I’m making payments.”
“You saved your friend’s life?” the kid asked in a small, awed voice.
I sat on my irritation. “I asked for help,” I said. “Sometimes you have to do that. Now, can I take a shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall?”
“Sure,” Tommy said, still in a little of that awed tone.
As I passed Mendez, she was thinking maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. That and intimate details about her latest girlfriend that I would rather not have known.
CHAPTER 10
When I got out of the shower, freshly shaved and dressed in clean clothes, I felt better. I’d kept tabs on Tommy’s mind from a distance, ready to dash out and handle something if necessary, but the spiderweb I’d set up hadn’t vibrated with any new minds, and everyone seemed calm. Not that I was good at this, mind you, but my old skills were tolerable. I thought.
I stuck my head in Tommy’s room, only to find him playing with the antigravity boats again.
“Where’s my mom?” he asked.
“I’ll find out,” I said. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I waited, but he went back to his boats and said nothing else. But I couldn’t exactly strap him to a chair because I didn’t feel comfortable right now, and getting a little distance—briefly—might help me settle without scaring him. I went back out to the main room, deciding to check in with Jarrod on the way.
Jarrod was waiting for me. He looked grim.
“I was just about to do that report,” I said. “Really. Tommy is fine, and there are no apparent threats.”
“It’s not that. Tanya died this morning in the hospital,” he said. “Seat belt syndrome, they said. Jason is pulling through and was just moved out of intensive care.”
“Oh,” I said. My stomach dropped into my guts. “Oh.” I looked around for a chair to sit in, finally settling for a footstool in front of a table. At least I thought it was a footstool; it was oblong in shape with a flat top. It seemed like a stupid thing to focus on right now.
I’d just met Tanya the day before, but I could have sworn . . . “I didn’t notice the shock in time, did I?” Guilt crawled all over me. She shouldn’t have died. Not for something like that. Not after saving Tommy.
Jarrod looked grim. “None of us did. She was sitting right here, in the room with me, while I was doing technical checks. None of us are happy about this, Ward.” He took a breath. “I will want a full report from you—it’s overdue—but some new information has changed our threat assessments. I need your help.”
I looked up. “What do you need?”
“You were the last person to talk to Tanya, and to be honest the only one of my team to get her full account of what happened. Jason is still unconscious. You are the closest thing we have to an adult eyewitness. Ideally . . . if you’re serious about your investigation on the scene, I want you to walk the area with me.” He paused, and I could feel calculations going on behind his eyes. A lot of them. Finally he said, “We’re due in court shortly. Make sure you’re ready.”
“Court?” I asked.
“The courthouse anyway. I want to keep an eye on the judge, and the locals aren’t taking things as seriously as I would like,” Jarrod said. “I have a strong feeling that if this is all connected to the murder trial as we assume, the best and first place to find out where the threats are coming from is that courthouse.”
“I can’t leave Tommy,” I said. “Not more than a hundred feet. Two hundred, maybe, in an emergency, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” I ran my hands through my hair, uncomfortable. It was still wet from the shower. “I don’t like separating the two of us from the main group.” I was still new enough at this Minding thing not to be sure I could handle things completely on my own. I hadn’t been completely on my own in years. At minimum, there had always been Cherabino and her gun available. I hoped she was okay today, the first day of her hearing. I wished I could be there.
“We’ll bring Tommy along,” Jarrod said. “And if I can get away, we’ll bring him to the crime scene anyway. With any luck, he’ll be able to tell us more than Tanya did.”
I paused. “Don’t you think this all is putting a lot of pressure on him? He’s just a kid. I mean, he should be at school, right?”
Jarrod shook his head. “Not with the permissions the judge has already for independent study. Like you said, we can’t split up the group. He’s going t
o have to be brave. You’re going to have to figure out how to make him brave.”
I swallowed. That seemed like such a huge responsibility on top of the other half dozen things Jarrod wanted from me. I suddenly understood why this job was paying so much.
“Anything else?” Jarrod asked me. “We need to leave in twenty, so make it quick.”
“Tommy wants to know where his mom is.”
“The sheriff’s team has already escorted her to the courthouse. She wanted to be there extremely early, and they failed to inform me. We’ll be discussing that later. In either case, they’re more responsible for her safety than we are.”
I thought about that and then finally ventured, “We’re going to have to tell Tommy about the bodyguard.”
“I’d rather not.”
“We’ve established that he can get to information from me without me necessarily controlling it,” I said. “If I know, he needs to know. I don’t imagine anybody—much less a kid—is going to take that information well as a secret.”
Jarrod took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’ll do it, but I’ll do it in the car, en route, where we can control things better. Now get yourself and Tommy ready. Like I said, we leave in twenty.”
* * *
The phone rang next to me in the hallway, and without thinking about it, I leaned down to pick up the receiver.
“Hello?” I said while all three FBI agents around me froze, one gesturing wildly.
“Who is this?” a man’s voice said on the other side of the line.
Special Agent Jarrod mouthed something at me. I didn’t understand, but I pulled the information from his mind—this could be a call from the person behind the attack today, and it could be dangerous to say FBI. Also dangerous to hang up too quickly.
“I’m Adam Ward,” I said before the silence got too long, lacking any better answer.
“Adam Ward?” a man’s voice said, a voice that sounded all too familiar.
