“Well, now you have two.”
He was smiling from across the car seat, and the way he looked at me and the way he spoke to me made me feel good. It seemed impossible that we were sitting there together, alone in the front seat like that. I’d pulled some stunts in the past when I was drunk, but never anything that ended with me actually doing something useful or worthwhile. He looked at me like I really was somebody, not a joke, and when he watched me those pretty iridescent lights shone from behind his eyes like he was something out of one of my dreams.
“This is a lot,” I said.
“I know.”
“Half the time I’m not even sure how much of it’s real.”
“It’s real,” he said. “The information the suspect provided was accurate, and after going over everything, I believe it’s real. I believe in you.”
Before I could stop myself, I cried right in front of him. Not a lot, just for a second, but enough to make me have to wipe my eyes. He handed me a tissue from out of the glove box.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pressing it to my eyes. On some level, I knew he was just being professional, just being polite. He had no idea how much what he was saying meant to me; he couldn’t know. No one was ever nice to me. No one ever took me seriously, or talked to me like I was a real person.
“You’re okay.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, laughing a little. I was getting punchy.
“Will you tell me more?”
“More about what?”
“About what you’ve seen. According to your resume, you’ve experienced a limited precognition?”
“You thought that was a joke.”
“I’m not laughing now.”
I wiped my nose on the tissue and thought about it. There was probably plenty I could tell him, but I didn’t want him to think I was crazy.
“Some people are being held against their will,” I said carefully. “Don’t ask where or who because I don’t know. They could be on Mars, for all I know. They have needles coming out of their heads.”
“Needles?”
“Long ones, coming out of the backs of their heads. They’re alive, but they can’t move. One of them told me I would lead someone to them, and I think she meant you. She told me I would end her pain.”
“You will lead me to them?”
“Then I will end her pain. That’s what she said.”
“Anything else?”
There’s a dead woman with a split heart who shows me things, but she’s keeping something from me.”
“What does she show you?”
“You,” I said, and his expression changed. When I probed him gently, I could see fear pricking up from the otherwise calm patterns that hung over him.
“Me?”
“You have a tattoo here,” I said, pointing to his shoulder opposite the one with the scar, and the fear pricked up again.
“Why did she show me to you?”
“I don’t know. She just said you would need my help.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“I’ve never met her, but she says I will soon.”
He paused, and looked down at the seat between us like he was lost in thought. The smile and the professional politeness were gone.
“I’d like to continue this,” he said, “but right now I have an appointment. I stopped here on the way because this is off the record and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Okay.”
“Can we meet again at some point?”
“I’d like that.”
“Yes,” he said, and the smile was back. The reassuring, professional warmth was back, like it had to be. “So would I.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a large office envelope, which he handed to me.
“In the meantime, would you mind looking at these?”
“What are they?”
“Some pictures and documents that are, for the moment, unclassified,” he said. “But again, this is off the record.”
I took the envelope and held it in my lap.
“They don’t know you’re here, do they?”
“No, and as I said, I’d like to keep it that way. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Not wanting to be dismissed, I decided to get out of there while things still seemed to be going well. I slid back across the seat and opened the car door.
“You’re not going to lecture me?” I asked. I had meant to include the words “about the drinking,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. He seemed a little bit amused.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll look at them,” I said, holding up the envelope as I slipped out the door. I was just about to close it when I remembered one other thing.
“Oh, and a revivor.”
“What?”
“She showed me a revivor, an Asian- looking one with a foreign name. It started with a Z. His jaw was wired shut. Does that help?”
“Yes.”
He was still smiling as I backed away and closed the door, but his fear spiked when I said it. He started the engine and pulled away, leaving me in the parking lot alone.
Calliope Flax—Bullrich Heights
My phone buzzed, and Luis shot me a look from over a slice of pizza. It was a text from Eddie.
I shut the phone.
“Who was that?” Luis asked.
“None of your business.”
We ate and drank some beer, and Luis made a shitload of calls on his phone. The more he talked, the less I liked him in my place. For one thing, he knew too many people and he called them all by fake screen names. For another thing, from the sound of it, he was into some shady shit. He didn’t want me to hear a lot of what he was saying. He asked about shit like data and security and who knew what and how much. He was going to be a
