by Amy Miles
“Absolutely.”
The phone rang, then.
“If that’s Julie, do me a favor and tell her I’ll call her later.” I pulled the covers up to my chin. “I just want to go to sleep and forget this entire day ever happened.”
Dad patted my arm. “Will do.”
I watched him get up, head to the door, and then turn to face me. “Kylie?”
“Yeah?”
“You know you’re the most important thing in the world to me.” His eyes searched mine.
I was too exhausted to be angry anymore. “Lying is lying, Dad.”
Not that I was going to let him off the hook.
“You’re right.” He looked like a vulnerable boy for a moment. “It’s still you and me, kiddo. Always.”
He made it so hard to stay mad at him. “I know.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
I stared at him as my eyes filled with tears. “Will it really be okay?”
“I promise.” He smiled and shut the door behind him.
I turned on my side and snuggled into my pillow. All I had to do was forget about mind reading. Forget that my mom had the power of tele-whatever. Shouldn’t be too hard. Not like I’d known about any of it before today anyway.
Joel and his friend Shawn would forget about my freak screaming and move on to bigger and better. I’ll make up an explanation for Julie, somehow. And keep my peeping brain power a secret—just like I’d never had it in the first place.
Only, one issue was still nagging my brain. The timing. I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I’d shaken people’s hands for years without anything happening. Why could I suddenly read minds now?
Chapter Three
Thursday, 7:08 a.m.
Dear Mom,
Yesterday was a complete nightmare. Thanks a lot for not telling me I was a super freak. I know you died when I was four, but that’s no excuse. I could walk and talk, so you should’ve clued me in.
Now I’m supposed to go to class today and pretend I didn’t freak out in the Chem Lab and the cafeteria. Like anyone’s gonna just forget that overnight. How did you deal with this when you were my age?
I so do NOT want to go to school. Seriously, I’d pay a million dollars (if we were rich) not to go.
Maybe Dad would buy that I’m sick and let me stay home. He’s not dumb, but how can he prove I didn’t get hit with a virus last night? It’s worth a try.
I just have to muster an “I feel like crap” look. Shouldn’t be hard to do under the circumstances. So pathetic what my life has come down to. Faking sick to ditch school. And I don’t even care if it lowers my GPA.
I’m really mad at you, Mom. You should’ve told me.
Love,
Kylie (the social screamer/class cutter/fake illness girl)
“Dad?” I scooted down the hall with my hand on my belly—for visual effect—and found him at the kitchen table with a coffee mug between his hands. “I have bad news. My stomach’s doing loops, my throat feels scratchy, and my glands are swollen. I’m totally coming down with something.”
It wasn’t a lie. As soon as I said the symptoms, I felt them. Maybe a new power? Oh, please no.
Dad stared at his full cup of black coffee. He didn’t look convinced, or like he was even paying attention.
“I’m not saying I need to go to the doctor or anything. I’ll feel better if I get some rest. At home.” I studied him, wondering if he was falling for any of this. “Can you call the school and let them know?”
He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “You’re not going to school today.”
Wow. If I’d known it’d be that easy, I wouldn’t have bothered getting dressed. “Great. Thanks. You’re the best.” And completely forgiven for last night. “I guess I’ll go back to bed. Probably make some tea later or something.”
“Wait.” His voice was abrupt as he gestured for me to sit in the chair. “We need to talk.”
I sat down slowly. Did my performance suck that bad? Should’ve gone with something simpler like a headache. “All right.”
He grasped his mug till his knuckles were white, but he still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t quite know how to say this, but I need something from you. Something important.”
“Oh, really.” Why did I have the sneaky sensation he was hiding something yet again?
“That phone call yesterday afternoon? It wasn’t Julie.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and shrugged. Was that all? Sure, it was a little rude that my best friend hadn’t checked up on me, but could I really blame her for not wanting to be associated with a screamer? “So, who called?”
His gaze met mine. That’s when I noticed the deep circles under his eyes. Like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Or any.
My stomach bubbled. What was going on? Dad always went to bed at ten o’clock. He was anal about his sleep. I waited for an explanation.
He finished off his cup, got up and reached for the pot, which was empty.
Stalling.
And suddenly I wanted him to hold off revealing what had him acting so strange. “I told you before, Dad. You need to lay off the coffee. Heart attacks are no laughing matter.”
He plunked back down in his chair, sighed, and put a hand to his forehead. “This is serious, Kylie.”
“And caffeine overload isn’t?”
Dad frowned. “Look, a girl is missing.”
“Come again?” No idea what I expected to hear, but that wasn’t it.
He rubbed his forehead. “A young girl has been abducted.”
Not the best world we lived in, but how did that concern me? “Someone called and told you that?”
He nodded. “Yes. . .”
I waited a beat, but his mouth was frozen in an “o” position. “And?”
The doorbell rang.
“This is happening too fast. I want to explain, but there’s a lot I haven’t told you.” He glanced in the direction of the door. “Most of which isn’t important right now. Bottom line, I need you to help find the little girl.”
My heart rate picked up. “Me? What am I supposed to do?” But, then I got it. My super gene brain peeping power—the one we’re supposed to ignore the rest of my life.
He gave me a helpless look, stood up, and backed toward the front door. “I’m sorry, but it’s important. More important than you can imagine.”
I watched him stride toward the front door and my entire body tensed. Did he expect me to shake hands with strangers, until one had a kidnapping clue?
He returned a few seconds later, opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
Dark circles, bloodshot eyes, and now he was speechless? This was getting scarier by the second. “Look, I feel bad that someone was abducted and I’m happy to help. Julie and I’ll post flyers around the neighborhood. Please just don’t ask me to do what I think you want me to do.”
He shook his head and avoided my eyes, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t either.
Just then, a uniformed police officer stepped out from behind my dad. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight knot at the nape of her neck and she didn’t wear a stitch of make-up.
My eyes bulged. “Why is this police person here?”
“I asked Officer Collins to come over, honey.” Dad gestured to the blonde, then came around the back of my chair, put a hand on each of my shoulders, and squeezed. “She’s a personal friend of mine and is going to assist the detective on the missing girl’s case. With your help.”
Blondie stood with her feet shoulder width apart and her hands clasped in front of her. “We’ll make it nice and simple for you, Kylie. Nothing to worry about.”
Who was she to say I had nothing to worry about? She didn’t know jack about my life. “Is she the one who called yesterday?”
Dad’s fingers tightened on my shoulders and he cleared his throat. “No, it’s complicated.”
“They think they’ve caught the guy who abducted the little girl, but there’s not enough evidence to hold him more than twenty-four hours. I need you to see what you can find out from him, so we can get her back.” He paused a moment and I wanted to turn around to look at him—try to read his expression. “You’ll be safe the entire time. Officer Collins has promised me that. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
I pushed his hands off my shoulders and stood up to face him. “You’re not coming with me?”
Dad avoided my eyes.
“What about our talk last night? I’m supposed to forget about—” I glanced at the cop, unsure of how much he’d told her, and lowered my voice, “—what I can do. Remember? Just like Mom did.”
Tears filled his bloodshot eyes momentarily. “This is for your mom, kiddo.”
“What do you mean?” My throat closed and my own vision blurred. “How can it be for M-Mom?”
He pulled me to his chest, smashing me tight against him. For about two seconds, I felt safe. Then, he kissed the top of my head and pushed me away. “I’ll explain later. But, right now you need to trust me.”
The thing was, I did trust him. If he was asking me to do this, the police must be desperate. I saw in his eyes that he was desperate, too. Did he know this little girl? Had Mom known her?
“Okay, I’ll do it.” A look of relief crossed his face. “But, will you at least come with me?” I didn’t want to say it aloud, but I was scared. Having him there would make it better.
Dad looked pained. “It would jeopardize your safety if I went. The suspect might recognize me and guess why you’re there. I can’t risk it.”
“That’s ridiculous. The suspect wouldn’t know anything about you. How could he?”
“I’ll explain everything later. I promise. Just go with Officer Collins. She’ll take care of you.”
I wiped my face and tried to compute going without my dad. How could I? He was my rock. Past tense, apparently. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”
“It’s in your best interest.” Dad reached for another hug, but I pushed past him. I flew out the front door, stared at the black and white police car parked at the curb, and gulped breaths of cold air.
The front door clicked closed behind me and Officer Collins came up next to me on the sidewalk.
My dad wasn’t coming with me. I was on my own. With her. “So he told you? About my special thing?”
She leveled her eyes at me. “He said you have mental telepathy.”
“Huh?” I frowned. “Oh, yeah, technical name for my peek-a-boo brain.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Kylie. I’m not sure I believe it. But, I’ve known your dad for years and I trust him. If he says you can do it, I can’t rule out the possibility. Not when a girl’s life is at stake.”
I didn’t like the way she’d said that. Like the girl’s life was in my hands. “Where’s your suspect?”
“At the police station.” She put a hand on my arm. “When we get there, just do exactly what we say. This isn’t a game and you don’t want to get hurt.”
Hurt? Uh, no I certainly didn’t.
She squeezed my arm. “If you’re ready, we should get going.”
Ready? I still hadn’t gotten past the word “hurt.” But, Dad said he wouldn’t put me in jeopardy. If he said I’d be safe, then I would be. I had to believe that.
Still, in order to get information about where the little girl was, I’d have to hold hands with a hardened criminal. My blood ran cold. No wonder my mom had ignored her super gene power.
****
If someone told me twenty-four hours ago that I’d be reading a suspected kidnapper’s mind, I would’ve told them to stop sniffing glue. But, here Blondie Cop and I were, entering some dinky room at the police station where a super cute guy was seated in a foldout chair.
What was I so worried about? I mean, if this was the suspect, I couldn’t wait to hold his hand—er, get the 411 from him. He had deep green eyes, short brown hair spiked up in front, and looked to be about thirty. He was dressed in a suit and tie. Out of my league, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
Blondie gestured to the hottie. “Kylie, this is Sam Williams. He’s the detective on the case.”
Ah, so he’s not doing time. Guess that would account for the lack of a striped jumpsuit.
The detective glanced at me, then his face grew hard. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Collins. This is the psychic you told me about? Some kid?”
I sucked in an outraged breath. “Kid? I just turned sixteen, thank you.” If we were in grade school, Julie would’ve totally punched him out for me.
“The kid’s a minor. Or did you miss that fact?” He gestured to me even though we’d just established I wasn’t a kid. “We could get in serious trouble for this.”
“It’s all under the radar, Sam. Nobody will find out. Besides, she’s the daughter of my—of a trusted friend. If he thinks she can do this, then she can.”
Blondie didn’t look too sure, if you ask me.
It was irritating, them talking about me like I wasn’t there and him doubting what I could do. Why else would I be here? Certainly not for my health. I’d almost rather be in school. Almost. “It might help you to know that I used my mental telepathy,” figured it sounded better than peek-a-boo brain, “four times yesterday and it worked like a charm.”
“Gee, now I’m convinced,” he said, flatly.
Blondie gave him an impatient look. “We have nothing else to go on, Sam. What’s it hurt to try?”
I turned to Blondie, confused. “Aren’t you the one calling the shots here?”
Blondie shook her head. “Sam’s the detective on this case. When your dad contacted me about your special capabilities,” she cleared her throat, “he made me promise to stay with you the entire time you were helping on the case.”
So, she was my babysitter. Great.
The detective stood up and shook his head, obviously still skeptical. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“It’ll be fine. I promise.” She drew in an audible breath. “I’ll sneak the suspect in now.”
Suspect? My mind jolted back to the here, now, and danger of the situation. Actually, an armed babysitter didn’t sound like the worst idea.
Blondie left the room and the detective brought over a metal chair for me. “All right, kid, this is how it’s going to go. Collins will bring him in and you can try your whatever-you-call-it. If you get nervous, feel uncomfortable in any way, or just need a break . . . tell us and we’ll take him back to his cell.”
He apparently thought that little speech would calm my nerves. Fat chance. My hands shook, my mouth was dry, and my heart pounded in my ears.
“Your face just went white as a sheet.” This guy may have been movie star gorgeous, but what he had in looks, he lacked in tact. I mean, Edmond Dantés would never suggest I looked pasty.
“Maybe we could, um, do this a different day?” I suggested, hopefully. Like reschedule for a week from never.
“The little girl’s already been missing over twenty-four hours, kid. If you want to help find her, there’s no time to dawdle.”
Rush, rush, rush. My anxiety was on overload and I was ready to explode. “You all want me to help, but nobody will clue me in on anything. Like how’d she get taken? What made you arrest this guy? I mean, I don’t even know the girl’s name.”
“The less you know, the better.” Then, he held his hands out. “But, nobody’s going to make you meet with him when you’re so . . . pale.”
Pale. Kid. Obvious he wasn’t trying to woo me into helping. “I said I’d do it, and I’ll do it.”
“All right.” The detective eyed me a few moments longer. “If you’re sure you’re ready.”
I nodded while all feeling left my body. Thanks to my dad, I was about to read the mind of some k
id-stealing creep. Had I completely lost it? Every sane part of me wanted to bolt.
My ears suddenly started buzzing. Like bees had invaded them. You’re the only one who can save her.
What, now my subconscious was convincing me to stay put? I poked my index fingers in my ears to soothe the tickle that was now fading. “I’m ready, already. Can we get this over with?”
“Let us know if you need to stop. Anytime.” Hot detective guy—who I still hadn’t forgotten called me pale twice—sat in a chair off to the side. “Keep in mind three things, kid. One, make it short and sweet. Two, don’t give him any personal information. None. Three, signal me when you’re done doing, well, whatever you do.”
Holding hands with a criminal. This was so not fair.
The door opened and Blondie returned, leading a bald man into the sparsely decorated room. He had a weathered face, a whiskered beard, and seemed kinda old—maybe fortyish. Looked like the kind of man who should be wearing overalls, a checkered shirt, and baling hay.
Was this guy a kidnapper? I gulped.
Blondie pulled him by the elbow, and seated him in the foldout chair across from me. We were eye-to-eye, close enough to touch. My heart pounded so hard, I swore he could hear it.
Determined to show Blondie, the detective, and—to be honest—myself, I could do this—I’d maintained a 4.0 for two and a half years, hadn’t I?—I took a deep breath, held out my hand and left it suspended in the air when he didn’t take it.
“H-Hi. I’m Kylie—” I bit my tongue at my own stupidity. I’d almost said Kylie Bates, before remembering the detective said not to give any personal info. Besides, did I really want a criminal knowing my last name? Um, no. If I could take back my first name, I would’ve so done that right now.
The suspect puffed out a breath, glanced at Blondie, then extended his arm toward me laughing incredulously. “What is this, some kind of joke? A high school project about false arrests?”
My hand turned to ice as his thick, calloused palm wrapped around it. An electric bolt shot up my arm, neck, and thrust into my head. Knife-like pain seared my right temple as I gripped the man’s hand. Clear images flashed in my mind. A girl. Young. Maybe eight or ten. Bright blonde curls, caked with dark red. Eyes half closed, fluttering as if on the verge of consciousness.
