At First Touch (18 page)

“Oh, Agent Carson is staying with the suspect. One of us is with him at all times,” he answered absent-mindedly. Finally he decided his course of action and stood up.

“Well, Miss Hannigan. Thank you for coming forward. I understand why you were reticent before, and I’m glad you’ve decided to put your faith in the right people.” I ruthlessly quelled a derisive snort. He was being perfectly serious. “We’ll check this information out and let you know if we need anything further from you.” He hesitated for a moment and went on in a softer voice. “And if there is anything else that you want to add, please call me. I want you to feel safe. Rest assured that I will keep the information you have given us completely confidential.”

I nodded as though I believed him, though I hoped Thrasher and his partner would completely forget me the moment I was no longer useful, and then my safety would be low on their list of priorities. Still, for the moment he was sincere, and I could appreciate that, if only on a superficial level.

Once Thrasher left I sank onto the couch with a great whoosh of air. My head was pounding from the effort of listening to both Carey and Agent Thrasher’s thoughts for so long and it was with significant relief that I returned to my own mind, pressing my hands against my eyes, trying to push back the building pressure. Like I always did when I exerted my ability for any length of time, I felt nauseous and dizzy, the strain on my faculties overwhelming. 

Carey was standing around awkwardly while Dad bent down to check on me. I waved him away and managed a weak smile.

“Carey, I don’t know how to thank you. Once again you’ve come through for me. I can’t believe I’ve only known you a few days and you’re still willing to do all this,” I said, trying to be gracious despite the vivid and violent pain in my head.

He shook his head dismissively. “I’ve told you Liz, I’m happy to help. And anyway, I just feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Dad rolled his eyes at this remark and gave me an ironic smile. I chuckled softly and put my arm over my eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Carey, but I’m really not feeling well just now…” I trailed off, finding speech too difficult. This was one of the reasons I avoided listening in to people’s thoughts for more than a few minutes.

Downloading a mind was simple and quick, giving me only a moment of paralysis and a brief shock of pain, like being hit with static electricity. Once the information was in my head I could examine it at my leisure with no side effects; but keeping open a connection between my mind and someone I had downloaded was more difficult. It required a conscious effort to control, or the other person’s thoughts and feelings would simply overwhelm me and I would lose my sense of self. I could manage it in short bursts when I needed to, but times like this afternoon when I listened in for nearly an hour, maintaining a link with two minds and trying to function normally, had exhausted me both physically and mentally.

Dad knew all this, of course, and now acted accordingly as I collapsed further into lethargy and pain.

“Carey, can I get you anything to eat or drink? Liz is going to need to get some rest now,” Dad said quietly, drawing Carey toward the kitchen. I heard Carey mumble in response, his tone worried and then I drifted off, dead to the world.

When I woke up Carey was gone and I was wrapped in an old quilt and cuddled up against Dad on the couch. He had been careful to make sure none of my skin was uncovered, allowing me a short time of being held without being bombarded by thoughts and feelings.

I shifted slightly to relieve a crick in my neck and looked up at Dad’s relaxed face. He was watching the mute TV, his eyes clear and focused, brow smooth and unconcerned.

“Hey Dad,” I mumbled, straightening up and rolling my neck. “How long was I out?”

He smiled at me and ruffled my hair. “About three hours, honey. How do you feel?”

I rubbed my eyes and grinned sleepily. “Pretty good. Was Carey weirded out?” I asked, a hint of nerves in my voice.

“No, sweetie. He was worried, but strangely accepting. I think I’m starting to understand why you trust him so much. We had a little chat,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice. I raised my eyebrows, hoping he hadn’t scared Carey off. “He’s a rather…ah, noble young fella isn’t he?” I laughed and agreed. Carey was nothing if not gallant.

“What should we do now, do you think? Are we safe?” There was no hiding the fear in my voice.

“I think we might be. The Feds should be distracted for a bit. We’ll be able to tell if we need to move on in enough time. Still,” he said as he pushed himself up from the couch, “it wouldn’t hurt for you to get some new identities made up. Save us time later, maybe.”

I nodded agreement, knowing he was right. No matter how hopeful I was that my plan would work and we could be stationary for the first time in years, there was a good chance we’d still be too visible, someone would catch up with us, either from the FBI or the Coalition.

I spent the rest of the day working up a new history for Dad and me, creating a file for each of us and getting it ready to ship to the guy we used for forgeries since we first started running. I knew how to do a lot of it myself, having downloaded the contact, but we had decided that carrying around the materials needed to make truly convincing documents was too risky. By the time I was ready to go to bed, everything was tucked away in manila envelopes, ready to be shipped out if we needed to leave.

I lay awake in bed that night consumed with the events of the past few days. It was hard to believe that after years of hiding, avoiding personal relationships, mistrusting the Bureau, and generally keeping my head down that I had changed so completely in such a short time. I was drawn to Carey, fond of V.J., actually interacting with federal agents and making myself visible. All my cardinal rules, broken.

Definitely enough to keep me up at night.

I finally drifted off around two a.m., a sick certainty in my gut I had overlooked something. Something important.

Two weeks passed without event. It was a strange sensation; every morning I woke up wondering if today was the day Thrasher would knock on the door and tell me I had to come with him for questioning, or one of the Coalition’s agents would be waiting at the kitchen table when I got home from school. But each day passed and nothing happened.

That is not to say
nothing
happened; V.J., Carey, Jared, Mark, and I spent an increasing amount of time together, at lunch, between classes, after school. I became less reserved in their company, even finding without meaning to I could make them laugh. Aside from nasty but impotent remarks from Chasisity and her crew and vicious looks from Preston, I was easily accepted into the day to day world of Shank High, no longer a novelty or oddity. People stopped asking me about my wardrobe and began interacting with me like I was normal.

I even allowed myself to excel in my classes, earning respect from the overworked teachers. Dad had developed a tentative camaraderie with several of his co-workers and had a standing invitation to Monday night football games. Apart from a single phone call from Agent Thrasher stating that the information I provided was useful and he would contact me if he needed anything further, we heard nothing more about Fitz or my involvement. We settled into a state of uneasy contentment, and I started going whole days without looking over my shoulder.

Carey and I still hadn’t gotten to have our date; Dad was leery of sending me out alone with him. I think he thought that I would spill the beans if I had too much time alone with my ever-present hero. That, or maybe he was just being a cautious father. At any rate, most of our interaction was at school or when we went out as a group to see a movie or grab milkshakes at Mickey’s. He called me, too, nearly every night to talk for half an hour. I avoided looking into his file, for lack of a better term, in my head so that I could hear what he wanted to tell me from his own lips, not from my little quirk.

It was the Thursday three weeks after my arrival in Pound that things started to change.

I had noticed throughout classes that morning that there had been an increase in the giggling among the girls and knowing snickers from the guys. I had attributed it to some new rumor circulating, or maybe an announcement for a dance that I had somehow missed. It wasn’t anything that particularly concerned me, so I didn’t make any real effort to discover the source and headed into gym blissfully unaware, simply looking forward to another period spent with Carey.

It was in the locker room that I overheard what must be the cause of all the whispers and laughing behind hands.

“And then apparently he just…couldn’t! And poor Jessie tried everything, and I mean
everything
, but it just wouldn’t work. And she asked him if it had ever happened before and he said no, but I heard from Sarah that he had done the same thing with her!” Chasisity’s grating voice rose above the clatter of lockers slamming shut to announce her juicy tidbit.

A gaggle of half-dressed girls stood around her exclaiming that they had heard something similar, laughing with scandalized looks on their faces. I could guess what they were referring to, but wondered how it had gotten out. When I had threatened Preston weeks before with the publicizing of his inability to perform with Jessie Cramer, a popular cheerleader, I had really been bluffing. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to spread a rumor properly, nor would I want to. The whole thing just seemed sordid to me.

But someone else must have found out, possibly from Jessie herself, and now Preston’s big secret was out. I shrugged and closed my locker. I just hoped he didn’t think I was the one to tell on him.

Carey was waiting for me on the bleachers, a concerned expression darkening his striking face. When I sat down next to him with a cheerful greeting, he turned suspicious eyes on me. I raised my eyebrows at him, wondering why he was looking at me so accusingly.

“Liz, I’m surprised at you. I thought you were done with Preston; I don’t understand why you would do this now. Has he said something else to you?” Carey seemed almost sad and I took a peek at his thoughts for a moment, furious when I realized what he suspected.

“I’m surprised at
you
, Carey. I thought you knew me better,” I retorted, hurt and angry.

I halfway expected Preston to confront me about his little secret getting out, but for Carey to think that I would maliciously spread gossip about someone just because I didn’t like him cut me to the quick. I had to remind myself that while I had a perfectly clear picture of his character; he only had what I showed him to go on. Still, I didn’t think that I had proven myself to be cruel or spiteful, and his censure stung.

He looked at me doubtfully. “So, you didn’t tell Chasisity about Preston’s, uh, problem? I mean, that is what you threatened him with at the party, isn’t it?”

Maddeningly, tears stung my eyes and I had to look away, unwilling to let Carey see how much he had hurt me.

“No. I didn’t,” I growled, getting swiftly to my feet.

“Wait, Liz; I’m sorry, ok? It’s just, I mean that is what you said before…I just thought…” he left off, lifting his hands helplessly.

“You just thought that I was petty and vindictive, and incapable of dealing with Preston like an adult. Yeah, I guess after all I’ve been through, my first instinct is to hurt someone else for no good reason. You read me like a book,” I said, my voice back to its old, familiar coldness, the shell of mistrust and detachment settling on me like a well-worn coat.

Carey stuttered and started to get up, but I just walked away, finding an empty space on the bleachers to wait for class to start. I was surprised at how deeply hurt I was by Carey’s assumption. It had been so long since I cared what anyone thought of me beyond whether they suspected who I really was that the strength of my reaction shocked me.

Then again, maybe the problem was that I had always cared what people thought, but was just used to being the weird girl, the one no one wanted to be friends with, the one everyone laughed at, who sat at home with her father every weekend, living in a bookcase, safely tucked away from the outside world.  The taste I had of something different these past weeks had weakened my tough skin and thinned the outer shell that protected me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carey get up and move towards me, a stricken look on his face, but I just scooted over and sat next to Quade, who chirped happily at my company. Paying him only the bare minimum of attention, I saw Carey halt, stand indecisively and then take his seat as Coach Dawson started class. We were still on volleyball, having class tournaments, and my group was playing. After a forty-five minute game which we narrowly lost, the coach dismissed the class and I darted off to the locker rooms before Carey could catch up with me. As I entered the short hallway to the girls’ locker room, I stopped short in dismay, seeing Preston hunched against the wall, a livid expression on his face. Sighing, I approached him warily, half afraid he was going to jump me.

“You bitch! I left you alone. Why did you have to go spreading lies about me?  It’s not even true, you know.” Preston got right up in my face, ignoring the growing crowd of onlookers on their way to change. I didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was going to do. “Just because I wouldn’t touch your skanky ass,” he spat venomously.

“Preston, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said evenly. “I didn’t tell anyone anything about you. There’s no need to be disgusting.” His face only got redder and he walked me straight up to the wall. I clenched my fist automatically, but reminded myself that the satisfaction of punching Preston would be insignificant compared to the trouble I could bring down on myself, so I remained calm and detached, giving nothing away.