Uncle Vic sat beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. His eyes were shimmering a bit, his lips trembling. “I’m sorry. I love you so much, sweetheart. I wish I could help you.”
He was doing a better job than I was at keeping himself together. I had to look away and wipe my face against my forearm. My throat was throbbing.
Jasmine lay limply in his arms, sobbing.
“You think we’d be better off without you, but you’re wrong,” I said, my voice thick and deep. I cleared my throat. “Happy or unhappy, you’re the only good thing in our lives, Jazz. Can’t you see?”
She didn’t answer.
“What do you want?” I gestured to the elevator. “I’m still talking to Esmer like you asked. I’m experiencing. Uncle Vic’s going out with Vanessa and a bunch of other detectives for drinks on Friday. Anthony’s taking some vacation time in a few months. We’re not going to change overnight, but we’re trying to do what you’ve asked us to.”
My sister just kept crying.
I squeezed my hat’s bill between both hands, gritting my teeth. “What else do you want, Jazz? You want to go on more field trips? You want to die in front of more people? Go back to being front page news?”
“Charlie,” Uncle Victor said wearily.
“What? I’m honestly curious. Would that make you happy, Jazz?” I demanded. “Would that make you feel any less like one of your caged birds?”
“No.”
At long last, my sister dragged a hand across her face. Our uncle released his hold on her so she could sit up on her own. Running her hands through her messy dark hair, she seemed to return to herself. She fixed me with a serious look. “But I don’t want new hires to be afraid to talk to me anymore.”
I scoffed, dropping my hands to my sides. “How would we be able to control that?”
Jasmine simply turned to our uncle.
He rubbed the palms of his hands against his knees as if they were suddenly sweaty. Grimacing a little, he said, “There was a contract drawn up when the two of you first moved into the precinct. Every new hire has to sign it before they can start working here.” At my look of confusion, he added, “People were still afraid and/or strangely obsessed with Jasmine at that time. The captain and I thought it was the best way to protect her from religious fanatics, or officers who’d been paid off by reporters, or visitors just looking to get her picture on conspiracy blogs.”
“Is there anything about me in this contract?” I asked.
My uncle scrunched his face as he tried to remember. “I think there’s a clause in there about allowing you access to files belonging to all investigations, and following any order you might give in the field.”
That explained a lot, actually. Still—
“Why am I only hearing about this now?” I threw my sister a suspicious glance. “And how do you already know about it?”
“The new intern told me.” Jasmine grabbed a handful of Uncle Vic’s sleeve. “Don’t tell the captain.”
“I won’t,” he said slowly. “But, Jazz, the contract has been working all these years. You and your image are safe.”
My sister frowned. “Fine. It says they aren’t allowed to talk to me unless I talk to them first. So I’ll just make it a point to be more welcoming.”
“What, you want to hand out muffin baskets to every new person who walks into this building?” I snorted. “Be realistic, Jazz. Not everyone is going to want—”
“I think it’s a great idea,” my uncle said. “Just don’t get too friendly with people. And let me know before you approach anyone so I can go with you, for protection.”
I was about to shoot him a dirty look and accuse him of giving in too easily, but then I saw the effect his words had on my sister. Any trace of sadness was gone from her face, just like that, replaced by her usual big smile. Her posture improved. She moved toward him with her arms outstretched and thanked him as if he’d just done her an amazing favor.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. If that’s all it took to make her forget about committing suicide…
“Since you’re taking requests,” she said, turning to address me, “I want to meet Esmer.”
“I already said you could.”
“At her house.”
I winced. “Jazz—”
“Her great aunt’s mansion sounds incredible, like the professor’s house from The Chronicles of Narnia.” Jasmine shrugged. “I want to see it.”
“It’s not a good idea,” I insisted with a shake of my head. “It took me forever to get Esmer’s aunt to sort of be okay with me. I don’t want to ask any favors from her yet.”
“Please, little brother?” She folded her hands and looked up at me with a pout. “It would make me so happy. And if I die, we can tell her I get seizures from time to time. Only Esmer will know what’s really going on. Isn’t that better than me going on an actual field trip out in public?”
“It does sound a lot better than going out in public,” Uncle Victor said with a sheepish smile. “At least ask Esmer’s aunt and see if it would even be possible, Charlie.”
I groaned. “Fine. I’ll ask.”
Jasmine squealed and wiggled around with her hands in the air, the closest she could get to dancing while sitting.
I was sure I’d regret it later but, right then and there, I was just glad she was still smiling.
February 10th, 1960
We felt the presence of our brethren. We were in India, studying from a guru, and we felt them in New Delhi.
We cannot be absolutely certain because we did not dare stay a moment longer. But it was unmistakable. The same strange sense of complete belonging
