He stopped the car and I practically leapt out the door, so thankful was I to be home. Preston jumped down from his side and waited for me, an expectant look on his face. It occurred to me that he was anticipating being asked in. Since the last thing I wanted was to be alone with someone who had attempted rape, I gave him an apologetic smile and started up the steps to the back door.
“Thanks for the ride, Preston. I’d invite you in, but we’ve still barely unpacked and the place is a wreck.” His smile fell and then he recovered himself.
“That’s cool. Do you want a ride to school tomorrow? I’m just up the road from here.” I grimaced and shook my head.
“No thanks, my dad would freak if I rode to school with a boy I just met. I’ll just have to cope with riding the bus.” I gave him a winning smile and moved back a few more steps. “See you tomorrow.”
He seemed to accept the finality of the situation and got back in his truck, waving goodbye with such friendliness that if I hadn’t known what he had done, I probably would have felt some liking for him. As it was, I just noticed his weak chin, beady eyes, and over-confident swagger and felt relieved to be done with him for the day.
I dug in my bag for my keys and unlocked the back door, breathing a sigh of relief as I entered the cool darkness of our new home. It was furnished minimally and blandly. Since we never invited anyone home and moved frequently, there was no point in exerting ourselves as far as decorating went.
“Koko,” I called, and was instantly greeted by my six-year old Blue-Point Siamese, purring and twisting around my ankles. I dropped my bag on the kitchen counter and picked the cat up, snuggling him close to my face and reveling in the velvety feel of his fur. With an ear-splitting yowl he told me that he wanted down and it was high time I fed him. I released him and he sprang agilely to the floor and then rubbed his back against the cabinet where his food was kept. I laughed and obliged, filling his silver bowls with food and water. While he happily set to his dinner, I headed to my room, which resembled a monk’s cell with its plain walls and lack of decoration. My clothes were still in their suitcases, and the only things I had unpacked were my books and my laptop. I flung myself on the unmade bed and closed my eyes, truly alone for the first time in my rather eventful day.
I was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming and my father’s voice calling me. I sat up and looked at the bedside alarm clock. It was after five; I had slept for over an hour. Stretching and yawning, I stood up and headed out to the kitchen, gearing myself up for the long and complicated story I would have to share with my father.
“Hey baby, how was your first…” Dad’s cheerful greeting trailed off as he got a look at me. I cursed inwardly for not thinking to put some cover up on my injured face; based on its tenderness, I imagined my eye was a gorgeous shade of purple by now. “What the heck happened to you?” he asked, his voice high and tight.
Sighing, I plopped down in one of the chairs at the small table where we ate our meals. “It’s a long story. You’d better sit down.” Without comment, he removed his tool belt and sat down across from me, his lined face serious and worried. I told him the whole story, holding back nothing. One of our agreements was to never hide anything from each other. When you only have one other person you can count on, there’s no sense in lying to them.
He listened without interrupting until I was finished and then got up, grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. He took a long drink and then turned back to me. I waited quietly, knowing he was processing everything I had just told him and was thinking on the best course of action.
After a few more moments of silent brooding, he nodded and put down the glass. “Well, sweetie, it sounds like you did really well.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I had been expecting him to tell me what a disaster I had gotten us involved in, and yet there he was giving me an admiring smile. “You thought quick on your feet, and I’m proud of you.”
“But Dad, I messed with someone’s mind! I gave him false memories! I don’t even know what else I might have changed…I could have really screwed the guy up!” My voice was incredulous; I had been waiting for him to berate me on my selfishness, to tell me what I had done was inexcusable. Instead he just stood there shaking his head and smiling at me reassuringly.
“Liz, you did the best you could in an impossible situation. I know you would never use your abilities inappropriately, and from what you tell me of this Fitz, he deserves whatever he gets.” I shook my head, still unbelieving, and he came forward and took my gloved hand in his, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“What do you think that man would have done? He would have taken you away from me and given you to the Coalition, and we both know what they want from you. I might never have found out what happened to you.” His lips tightened with emotion and I felt tears spring to my eyes. Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about what I had done. The thought of never seeing my dad again, knowing what it would do to him if he lost me wiped out any consideration I might have had for Fitz.
“You’re right, Dad. I guess I was just freaked out.” He nodded and released my hand.
“Now tell me more about this Carey,” he said and I blushed. “Hmm…well, maybe we don’t have to talk about him right now.” He gave me lopsided grin and I laughed, relaxed and happy in his company. He always seemed to know what to say.
“Do you want to order pizza for dinner?” I asked. We did a lot of takeout since we kept our cooking supplies at a minimum for ease of packing. We hadn’t found a decent Chinese restaurant in town yet, so pizza seemed like the best option.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Pineapple on yours?”
We discussed our options and then he called the town’s only pizza joint and we settled in front of the TV together to wait. The rest of the evening followed our usual pattern; we ate and he told me about his new job, he watched TV while I did my homework at the kitchen table, then we went out to the garage to go through our training session. This month we were working on kickboxing and used a punching bag Dad had managed to find at a yard sale in Cleveland. Finally around nine-thirty, I took a bubble bath and put on my pajamas. It occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from Carey, but as I didn’t have his number I couldn’t do much about it, so I curled up in bed with a Gwen Bristow book I’ve read about a hundred times and read until I fell asleep.
Chapter 5
The alarm went off at six-thirty and I moaned. My sleep had been restless and interrupted by noxious dreams. Koko was sitting firmly on my legs, so I cuddled him to me and took a few moments to tell him what a smart kitty he was. The cat was one of the few things I had left from my old life, before the accident. Dad banged on the door and told me to get a move on, so I placed Koko on my pillow and dragged myself out of bed.
I shuffled across the hall and threw myself in the shower, letting the warm water bring my skin into tingling wakefulness. I washed my hair and scrubbed clean with jasmine scented body wash and felt much more human when I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my hair. Dad shouted goodbye, and told me to call him if anything strange happened today; he would have his phone turned on, and would be home before I got back from school. I told him to have a good day and then poured myself a bowl of cereal as he went tramping noisily out the back door. I had just finished breakfast when my cell phone rang; I answered it anxiously since there was only one other person besides my dad that knew the number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Liz. It’s Carey.” I felt a grin stretch my face and rolled my eyes at myself. Really, I had to nip this in the bud.
“Oh, hi Carey. What’s up?” I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, but I couldn’t help the twinge of excitement I felt at hearing his voice over the phone.
“Um, I told you I’d call about what happened yesterday.”
“Right.”
“Do you have a ride to school, or can I pick you up? We could talk about it on the way.”
“No, I was just going to
catch the bus. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
There was a pause and I heard him laughing softly. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll pick you up at a quarter to eight. Where do you live?” I gave him directions and we said goodbye. Grinning wide enough to split my face, I cleaned up my breakfast and rushed into my room to brush and dry my hair. I laid flat on my stomach and blow dried my hair with my head upside down; a little trick my mother had taught me for giving my hair more body. It took about ten minutes to get it dried and styled just right; glancing at the clock I saw I had thirty minutes until Carey would arrive.
I stood over my suitcases for an unprecedented amount of time, all the while scolding myself for acting like a simple minded schoolgirl when he probably just wanted to tell me what had happened at the police station and then forget all about me. Finally, with just a few minutes to spare I was dressed in jeans, a white button down with a turned-up collar, and a black vest topped off with wrist-length black gloves. I took a look in the bathroom mirror at the bruise creeping out from my temple and winced. As a rule, I don’t wear much makeup; my complexion is clear and make-up only makes me more noticeable. Today, however, I slapped on some concealer over the bruise. I started to leave and then turned around muttering curses under my breath as I put on some mascara and lip gloss. What a hussy.
I heard a beep and hurried outside; Carey’s giant sled of a car was idling in my driveway. I forced myself to walk calmly and smiled as Carey hopped out of the car and dashed over to open the passenger door. He was grinning as he waved me in, which I thought boded well. After all, he could have probably just told me whatever he wanted over the phone. He didn’t have to go out of his way like this.
He got back into his seat and glanced over at me. I was waiting quietly, still unsure about his motives for picking me up. Flashing me another heart-stopping grin, he backed out of the driveway, which was an accomplishment considering the size of the car, and slowly drove out of the development and down the road.
“She doesn’t go very fast, sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s fine. So, uh…what happened yesterday?” I asked, unable to keep the nervousness out of my voice. He kept his eyes on the road and was silent, considering.
“Your head looks like it hurts,” he said. I restrained my impatience; I had a feeling he was building towards something.
“It’s sore, but it’s really not that bad.” He nodded, as though this were of massive importance. Suddenly he swerved off the road onto a dirt track leading into the woods.
“Uh…where are we going?”
He swung off the track into a small graveled area. “This leads to the woods where everyone plays paintball. I wanted a moment to talk to you in private before we get to school.” I shifted in my seat nervously. This was not how I had seen this going down.
“Ok. Just…ok.” I said and opened the connection between our minds. I figured it was fair since he had practically kidnapped me.
“Ok, just ask her what she did. Don’t accuse, just ask, like it’s normal. She might be different, this might be a chance…”
I closed the link and breathed easier, reassured that he wasn’t about to axe murder me and dump me in the woods.
“The guy you knocked out, he said his name was Eddie Fitz. Well as soon as he came to he started confessing that he was, like, a serial rapist, giving all these details…” Carey’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Anyway, that was enough to make the sheriff bring him in on top of what I told them. I have a pretty good relationship with the police here,” he said modestly.
I nodded, knowing from when I downloaded him that he had accomplished a number of heroic rescues that had endeared him to local law enforcement.
“So they told me what they found out about the guy.”
He gave me a piercing look and I did my best to look innocent. He shifted in his seat so he was facing me. “They ran his prints and found that he’s wanted for questioning in a murder up in New York. The weird thing,” he said sharply, “as though the fact that you knocked out a potential murderer wasn’t weird enough. The stuff he was confessing to was disjointed and confused, like he didn’t even remember doing them.”
I swallowed nervously. What had I done?
“And then, when they questioned him about attacking someone behind the diner, he didn’t remember it. In fact, he didn’t even remember why he was in Pound or how he got here.” He stopped and looked at me steadily, waiting for a response.
To my intense embarrassment I found that I was crying. This was apparently not the reaction Carey expected me to have because he immediately turned bright red and started stuttering. I took great big gulps of air, trying to stave off the desperate sobs I felt building in my chest. It didn’t matter that the man was a criminal, a murderer, and probably many more things.
I had violated his mind, altered it for my own benefit.
I had raped his mind.
I had done what I despised most; I took advantage of someone defenseless, because there was no defense against my ability.
In that moment I truly hated myself.
I was barely aware of Carey as self-loathing overtook me and I sat with my hands over my face, tears streaming down my arms and wetting the fabric of the gloves. When the sobs finally quieted, I realized that Carey had pulled me into his arms and I was pressed against the comforting warmth of his chest as he murmured softly in my ear, stroking my hair. I jerked away abruptly and dashed the wet from my cheeks with my fists.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I rambled, trying to control the shaking in my hands. I looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid to see the disgust and contempt that must be in them. “Just let me out, I’ll walk from here. I’m so sorry.”
Carey grabbed my shoulder in one hand and turned me roughly so I was staring straight in his eyes.
“Don’t apologize. It’s me that should be sorry. I was curious and so I went about this all wrong. I knew you were in some kind of trouble and I just dropped this on you. Please don’t cry,” he pleaded, his eyes soft and warm with apology.
“No, it’s not your fault. I’ve done a terrible thing. Terrible. I’m so sorry I got you involved in this. Look, if you’ll just drive me home I swear you’ll never see me again,” I promised. I would call Dad right away and tell him we had to get out of town. We would hastily pack our things and I would change our names and get new fake birth certificates and social security numbers, create identities and histories, and we would disappear again.
He looked at me steadily. “Then I’m definitely not taking you home. I don’t want to never see you again.”
My control was so weak that his thoughts were flooding into my mind unchecked. I could hear his genuine regret, his attraction to me, his curiosity and shame that he had made me cry. He was wishing he could take it back, he was afraid he had scared me away, he wished I would trust him, he would never hurt me. With a struggle that nearly made me break out in a sweat, I managed to close the connection; but I was grateful I had gotten that glimpse of his thoughts. At least I knew he didn’t hate me.
I took a deep breath. He deserved at least part of the truth. I couldn’t tell him everything, at least not until I discussed it with Dad, but I could give him an explanation based in reality.
“Ok, Carey. I’m going to tell you some of what’s going on. Try to understand, I can’t tell you everything; knowing too much could be dangerous for you.”
He opened his mouth to say something then closed it, nodding. I took another deep breath and stared at my hands.
“My dad and I are in hiding from…an underground organization. These people found out about…certain…abilities of mine and kidnapped me about a year ago.”
“What?” Carey gasped. I nodded and held up a hand for him to be quiet.
“They kept me prisoner for a week before I was able to escape. Don’t ask me how, I can’t talk about it,” I qualified, accurately reading his avid expression. “They wanted to make me do things I didn’t want to do, things that
would have hurt innocent people. My dad and I have been hiding from them ever since. When I saw Fitz,” here I prepared to stretch the truth a bit. “I knew he was one of their men sent here to get me. I…neutralized him before he could call it in, so I should be safe for a while.”
I took a moment to think about how I wanted to address Fitz’s memory problem and decided there was just no way to explain it without giving away my secret.
“As to what he confessed, I can’t tell you anything about that.” I blew out my breath and felt a little lighter for sharing my troubles, abridged as they had been.
I kept staring down at my hands, unable to face Carey, not knowing how he would respond to what admittedly sounded like a bad spy movie. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I looked up at Carey and was shocked at his expression. His eyes were shining and there was an unmistakable look of admiration on his face. I frowned, not sure what to make of this reaction.
“Liz, thank you for telling me,” he finally said. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. Don’t worry about telling me anything else unless you want to. I shouldn’t have even made you tell me that much.”
He shook his head angrily and took my gloved hand in his, trapping my gaze with his fathomless sapphire eyes.
“Look, I realize you barely know me and have no reason to trust me.”
If he even knew the half of it.
“But I swear I will never breathe a word of this to anyone. I can be a friend to you, a good friend. It’s obvious you can take care of yourself, but I swear, I can help protect you and your father.” He gripped my hand so tightly I thought it might break. “I know this must sound stupid coming from someone like me, especially to someone who’s been through what you have, but I swear I really can help.”
At First Touch Page 6
