At First Touch

by Dunman, Mattie

  “Take your phone!” he yelled and then ducked back in his room. I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary reminder, stuck my phone in the zippered pocket on my hip, and skipped out the door. The crisp air hit my face like a punch and I paused for a moment, exhilarated by the clear scent of autumn. Setting an easy pace, I breathed deeply and took in my surroundings.

  Though the neighborhood was packed tight with little room for beauty, the bright blaze of the tree-covered mountains enveloped the tiny development. I found myself relaxing as the quiet seeped into my bones; once again I hoped that things might fall out so that we could stay here. I had lived in so many places, mostly cities, that the thought of spending years in such peaceful surroundings was a balm.

  “Excuse me, miss.” I jerked to stop and swung around, fists automatically rising and knees dipping into a fighting stance. I had been so lost in thought I had completely let my guard down and missed the signs that someone was watching me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I lowered my fists and stood up straight, still tense and ready for action, but less aggressive. The man slowly walking toward me was Thrasher, whose entire life was safely tucked away in my brain. Wary, I flipped the switch in my head and opened the connection between our minds.

  “She’s a jumpy little thing. What does she have to be nervous about? Maybe Carson was right, there’s something a little odd about her.”

  Aloud, he spoke in a calm, pleasant voice, one carefully designed to put skittish females at ease.

  “My name is Agent Thrasher; I’m with the FBI.” He paused to let that sink in. “I was just on my way to see you at your home. You are,” he glanced down at a notepad in his hand, as though he needed to check, “Elizabeth Hannigan?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” I replied, my voice cold. I should’ve just stayed inside; Dad would have told the agent I wasn’t at home and we could have put this off.

  His welcoming smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions, would that be alright?”

  I didn’t answer right away, listening to his thoughts to try and figure out why he was here to see me. After a moment, I realized that someone at the diner had reported seeing me leave moments before Carey went out to “catch” Fitz. I swore under my breath. I had really hoped that no one would link me to the incident, but clearly someone had connected the dots.

  Agent Thrasher had.

  “Can I see some ID, please?” I asked, even though I knew perfectly well who he was and what he was here for. I left the connection between us open, hoping to control the situation and respond to what he was really asking; maybe I could put him off if I played my cards right.

  He looked momentarily surprised and then pasted a professional smile on his face. “Of course, and you’re quite right to ask. Smart girl,” he mumbled as he pulled his badge out and gave it to me for inspection. I pretended to study it assiduously while I continued to listen to his thoughts.

  “Carson is right, there’s more than meets the eye with this one. She must be the girl Fitz attacked. Why didn’t she come forward? Did he tell her something? About the drop, maybe?”

  What a mess. Maybe I should have stayed with Carey and played the victim. Now it was going to look doubly strange that I had run away and not gone to the police. I handed him his badge back and gave him a hesitant smile.

  “I’ve never seen one of those before,” I lied, careful to put a little awe in my voice. “How can I help you?”

  Thrasher’s smile relaxed and became more natural. “Well, I’ve just got a few questions. Now, you might have heard about an attack that happened at the back of Mickey’s diner a few days ago?” He looked at me questioningly and I nodded, knowing I had to concede this. “Alright. Good. Well, I’ve heard from a few sources at the diner that you were there with the young man who caught the attacker, is that right?” Again I nodded. I knew from his thoughts that I had been placed at the scene.

  He looked pleased and scribbled something in his notebook. “I see. Were you with Mr. Drake when he had his altercation with the suspect?” His eyes sharpened and fixed me with a stare that I’m sure they teach FBI agents in Interrogation 101.

  I paused for a moment, thinking over my answer. I knew Carey hadn’t given me away and they only had circumstantial evidence placing me at the scene. Thrasher’s thoughts made it plain that while he had his suspicions, there was absolutely nothing concrete to tie me to the actual attack. I breathed a little easier and constructed my story, knowing Dad would back me up.

  “No, sir, I wasn’t. I got a phone call from my Dad while I was getting a milkshake with Carey and went outside to talk. When I came back, Carey wasn’t there and I didn’t know where he’d gone, so I got a ride home with someone else.” I shook my head sheepishly. “I didn’t know what had happened until school the next day. I thought he ditched me,” I mumbled, casting my eyes down in pretend embarrassment. I found myself wishing intensely that Carey would back me up on this if he was questioned.

  There was silence from Agent Thrasher, but I could hear him working through my story in his mind and gave a small sigh of relief. Evidently I had been seen leaving the diner on my phone, but no one had noticed me go around the side of the building. In fact, no one remembered seeing me after that, thanks to all the excitement once Carey came out.

  I glanced up at him and saw that he was studying me carefully. Well-schooled in masking my emotions and thoughts, I kept my face bland and pleasant without maintaining constant eye contact. Nothing will make an alpha male type bristle quicker than aggressive eye contact.

  Finally he nodded and wrote something down. “I see. So you didn’t see what happened? Or hear anything?” I shook my head and told him no. “Who did you ride home with?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Oh, crap.

  “Preston Deene, sir. He was at the hardware store and offered me a ride.” I really hoped he didn’t talk to Preston. I had no doubt that he would badmouth me and further raise the agent’s suspicions. My spirits sank as he wrote that down and made a mental note to check out my story.

  “I understand you just moved here, is that right?”

  I nodded again. I was starting to get a headache from keeping the link between our minds open. I usually switched off by now, and the effort of appearing normal was beginning to tell.

  “Well, you certainly seem to have made some good friends in a short time. Both Carey and this Preston? Pretty quick work.” He gave me an appraising look and I felt myself flush with anger.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, my voice like ice. He looked taken aback and I continued. “Look, I don’t know what else I can tell you. I didn’t see anything and I don’t really get why you needed to talk to me to begin with. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’d better get home or my Dad will worry. And you should probably check with him first if you want anything from me again. I know you’re not supposed to question minors without a parent present.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth I bit my lip. Just like I had in gym, I let my temper get the best of me and gave away more than I meant. He had meant to be provocative, and now Thrasher was thinking that this last statement didn’t track with the soft-spoken, slightly nervous teenager I had been just a moment before.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he grunted, eyes narrowed. In for a penny, in for a pound, I glared right back at him. After a moment his mouth twitched and I knew he was holding back laughter.

  “Well, that will be all for now, Miss Hannigan. Thank you for your cooperation,” he said dryly. “By the way, what happened to your eye?”

  I suppressed the urge to snarl at him and managed an insincere smile. “An accident at school. Nothing serious.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Take care, Miss Hannigan.”

  Thrasher turned and headed back to the black SUV parked down the block, his thoughts rapid and complex, most of them about me and my involvement with Fitz. Despite a lack of evidence, Thrasher was convinced
that I had been the mysterious victim of Fitz’s alleged attack, and that I was hiding something more than just outraged modesty. With a muttered curse, I started running at a faster pace back for home, wondering what on earth I was going to tell Dad.

  By the time I reached the door I decided not to mention the incident just yet. It was probably wrong, I knew, but I was afraid his immediate reaction would be to pack up and leave town, and I really didn’t want that. I pressed my hand to my forehead in frustration. As unbelievable as it was, leaving Pound now would really hurt. I thought of Carey, and of V.J., the party, the opportunity to live like a normal teenager for a change, and felt a wave of bitterness wash over me. Why should I always have to run? Why did I have to keep living a life that was no life?

  I slammed the door behind me and stalked to the kitchen. I was saved from making an immediate decision by the note on the table. Evidently Dad had gone to a co-worker’s house to watch some sporting event. My lips twisted into a smile. Even Dad was making friends, trying to carve out some semblance of normality. Living here could be good for us and it was just so unfair that not only would a Coalition agent show up, but the Feds too.

  I struck my fist on the table, making it vibrate with the force of my blow. I would find a way to make this work. I would manipulate the Feds, get them turned onto the murders and direct their attention away from me. After all, if I couldn’t maneuver through this situation knowing the thoughts of everyone involved, then the past four years had been for nothing.

  Glancing at the clock, I saw that I had two hours until V.J. picked me up. I took a shower and washed my hair, spent some time playing with Koko and watching TV. My concern over the scene with Agent Thrasher began to dissipate as I considered the night ahead of me. I was both nervous and excited, with a small, burning knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that prevented me from eating dinner.

  With only fifteen minutes left, I stumbled into my bedroom and got dressed for the party in black leggings and a long-sleeved green shirt-dress that hung about mid-thigh, swirling slightly as I turned to grab a short jean jacket out of the closet and tossed a light silver scarf around the exposed skin of my neck. Stuffing my feet into knee-length black leather boots, I stood up and examined the effect in the mirror. I did a little pirouette and smiled. My almost-black hair shimmered like silk against the tint of olive skin and the green of the dress brought out the deeper shades in my eyes. I regretted that there was still a yellowish bruise around my eye, but it could’ve been worse. As I pulled on a thin pair of black gloves I sighed, wishing for the millionth time that I didn’t have to constantly cover myself up, even down to my fingertips.

  A knock at the door startled me out of my reflection and I glanced at the clock. V.J. was early.

  I peered out the peephole in the door and relaxed as I saw V.J.’s smiling face. I had been a little worried that Agent Thrasher was coming back for more, but now I opened the door swiftly, barely containing my excitement.

  “Hey! Are you ready to go?” she asked, her voice bright and cheerful.

  “Yeah, absolutely! Let me just grab my stuff; c’mon in.” I gestured for her to enter and she stepped gingerly over the threshold. “Do you want a drink or anything?”

  “No thanks, I’m good. I like your outfit,” she said shyly, her eyes lingering on my gloves. Self-consciously, I tucked my hands behind my back and grinned at her.

  “Thanks. I like yours too,” I replied honestly. V.J. looked cute in a snug pair of dark blue jeans and a loose, off-the-shoulder beige sweater that probably cost more than my entire outfit. I told her to have a seat and dashed back to my room to collect my purse and the overnight bag packed for my stay at chez V.J. I glanced over at Koko’s bowls to make sure he had food and water and then headed into the living room where V.J. sat patiently waiting. She jumped up when she saw me and reached for my bag.

  “Here, I’ll put it in the trunk.” I handed the duffel bag to her and said I’d be right out. Giving Koko a quick pat on the head, I added to Dad’s note on the kitchen table, telling him I had gone and would call him like we talked about. Finally, I slipped out the door, locking it behind me, ready for whatever the night would bring.

  Chapter 8

  Jared’s house was outside side of town, about ten minutes past the last community building, at the end of a narrow dirt road. Empty land stretched out on all sides of the modest farmhouse that commanded the landscape; a carefully maintained white fence marked the outlines of the property, and I could see the smoke from the promised bonfire rising from behind a slight hill to the left of the house. V.J. parked the car in a makeshift lot in the middle of a field, already crowded, and we joined the throng of classmates hiking to the site of the party. I called Dad, like he had asked, and briefly updated him on the situation. He conceded that I could wait until the party was over to call him again unless something went wrong. I hung up with a smile on my face.

  I half-listened to V.J.’s excited chatter as I tried to get the anxious flutters in my stomach under control. It was already almost full dark and the moon was hidden behind thin clouds, casting a milky light that made shadows appear and shift in the corners of my eyes. The ground was a little damp and I felt the heels of my boots sinking with each step. I had the feeling I was being sucked inexorably into something I didn’t understand, and with each step I solidified the trap awaiting me.

  I shook off the morbid feeling and gave my full attention to V.J., who was pointing out people from school and commenting on their outfits, who was with whom, and what consequences the unions might have when the weekend was over. By the time we rounded the hill and reached the main party, I was into the spirit of the thing, ready to let loose a little and bury my paranoia for an evening.

  “Hey, I’m glad you girls could make it!” Jared greeted us as we came closer to the circle of chatting partygoers around the bonfire. “There’s drinks over there,” he said, pointing to a shaky-looking wooden table placed a safe distance from flying sparks, “and there are some chairs and stuff set up around the fire. Have a good time!” He flashed us a wide grin, his face covered in shadows, and then moved on to greet his next group of guests.

  “Do you want to get something to drink?” V.J. asked and I nodded, suddenly realizing I didn’t really have a clear idea of what one was supposed to do at a party. I followed in her wake, noting how many people called greetings to her even as they gave me curious and sometimes hostile glances. Obviously I was still an unknown quantity.

  “Hi!” a high-pitched male voice piped up behind me. I turned around and saw my gym partner bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet and waving shyly.

  “Hey, um…Quade,” I said, hoping I got his name right. I must have because he brightened and smiled happily at me. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, it’s good. Pretty cool party, right?” He blushed as the lameness of his question obviously occurred to him. I laughed and agreed it was a pretty cool party. V.J. came back holding two drinks and handed one to me.

  “Hey, Quade. Here’s a coke, Liz. I hope that’s ok.” I said it was and the three of us fell into conversation, which was mostly me listening to the two of them discuss their Spanish teacher’s new haircut. I was drifting a bit, just enjoying being part of a group when a warm hand rested on my shoulder. I tensed and then relaxed as Carey’s luxuriant voice greeted me.

  “Hey guys. Liz.” I shifted to one side to let him join us, moving away from his touch out of habit. “Glad to see you all made it.” V.J. blushed and I felt a little heat rise in my cheeks as well. He had that effect on women.

  He looked fantastic, dark and dangerous. Carey was dressed in faded jeans that hugged him in an enthralling manner and a tight black button down with the top three buttons undone, exposing a healthy amount of smooth, beautifully sculpted chest. His eyes gleamed in the firelight as he fixed his gaze on mine, and I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Once again I felt an intense desire to reach out and run my fingers through his shining hair, but I ball
ed my hands into fists and pressed them into my thighs.

  Carey surveyed me with an appreciative glint in his eyes and then smiled broadly, making my heart pound loud enough that I was sure everyone could hear it. “You look…great.” He whispered close to my ear and I shivered. V.J. caught my eye and winked. I rolled my eyes at her.

  “Um, thanks. So what usually goes on at these parties? Is there music or anything?” I asked, trying to control my breathing.

  “Yeah, I think Jeff and his band are going to play in a bit. They’re getting set up right now,” Carey replied, pointing to a group of occupied boys arguing over a small black amp. Quade and Carey entered into a debate over what kind of wattage was better while V.J. and I talked about music. After a while we were joined by Mark; I laughed at V.J.’s pink cheeks and pleased expression when he asked if she wanted to take a walk.

  “Will you be ok?” she asked me, a tiny line appearing between her brows. Carey moved a little closer to me and I grinned.

  “I think I’ll manage,” I replied and we shared a moment of complete understanding. She and Mark wandered off and Quade went in search of food, leaving Carey and me alone for the first time.

  “So what do you...”

  “How are you…”

  We both laughed as we simultaneously tried to strike up a conversation. He gestured for me walk ahead of him and we began strolling closer to the fire.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on mine.

  My lips curved in a smile and I met his gaze. It was strange; I had only known him for the briefest time, but I felt such a strong connection with him that went beyond the link between our minds. I knew everything there was to know about him, and yet I found myself wanting to know more, wanting to hear the things I knew from his own lips. I wanted him to trust me, to share his secret with me. I wanted to share mine with him. I was both frightened and elated by this flood of emotions and wasn’t sure how to act as a result. More than anything I wished I could kiss him and feel his arms around me. I sighed, knowing how unlikely an event that would be.