At First Touch

by Dunman, Mattie

  “You know, once we get our story straight with him, it might not be a bad idea for him to talk to the Feds with us.” I crooked an eyebrow inquiringly. “Well, they’ll want to check our story with him anyway; it’d be better to have it happen where we can see it and you can control the situation. You’ve downloaded both Carey and Agent Thrasher, right?” I nodded. “Good. Well, you can tune in and keep ahead of the game during the interview. See if you can download the other agent as well. Best to know what both of them are thinking.”

  I was a little surprised. Dad didn’t usually encourage me to use my abilities unless we were in serious danger. Still, I supposed the principle applied; after all, we were fighting for a place to live.

  I agreed and then went back to change into something more responsible looking. I put on tan slacks and a black and grey argyle sweater. I left off the gloves. For once I was planning on using my weird little talent; plus, I didn’t really want to explain why I was wearing gloves in my own home to two FBI agents.

  I was just brushing my hair and putting on a touch of mascara when the doorbell rang. I ran out, but Dad was already at the front door, greeting Carey. My lips tingled slightly as I remembered his kiss the night before.

  “Hello, sir. I’m Carey Drake. Liz asked me to come over,” Carey said, only a hint of nerves in his voice as he met my father. I smiled to myself; somehow I hadn’t pictured this moment.

  “Hi there, Carey,” Dad replied, putting his hand out to shake Carey’s. “Liz has said some good things about you. Please come in.” He waved Carey in and they exchanged awkward small talk for a moment, then lapsed into silence.

  “Hey, Carey. Thanks for coming,” I said, grinning at the sight of him. He brightened and gave me a little wave. Dad snorted and took a seat on the couch.

  “No problem. What’s up?” he asked, glancing back and forth between my father and me.

  “First, do you want a drink or anything?” He shook his head and looked at me expectantly. I glanced at Dad and he nodded subtly. I took a deep breath and opened my mind to Carey’s.

  She’s going to tell me about herself. Whatever it is that she’s keeping secret, she’s decided to trust me. Her father must have agreed…should I tell her? I want to tell her, so much. Wait and see, wait and see what she tells me…”

  I sighed. Poor Carey was doomed to disappointment.

  “Carey, I asked you here because I’ve decided to tell the FBI agents the truth about what happened with Fitz.” Carey appeared taken aback; I knew this wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he collected himself quickly and looked attentive.

  “I…see. What do you want to tell them?” he asked, his tone cautious as his eyes shifted to my father. I asked Carey to sit down and took my place beside Dad on the couch. Carey settled into the battered old armchair to the side of the TV, leaning forward on his knees.

  “The thing is, I don’t want them to know what we talked about before; about the time I…was kidnapped.” Dad sat forward and gave me a stupefied look; I hadn’t mentioned telling Carey about that. I ignored him and plowed on. “There are reasons that I can’t get into now, but it’s best that they don’t think I’m anything but what I appear to be; a girl who recently moved to Pound and had a bad first day at school.”

  Carey eyed me contemplatively for a moment, his handsome face drawn in worry. Dad gave me stern look and I knew he was angry with me for telling Carey about the kidnapping, but I didn’t care. I knew that it was that shared confidence that had brought us closer, and besides, I could trust him. When you know everything a person’s ever done, said, and experienced, you become a pretty good judge of character.

  Finally Carey nodded at me and then at Dad. “I understand. I know a little something about keeping a secret.” I almost laughed. Of course he did. “I will respect yours and hope that you’ll trust me with it one day. I won’t mention anything that you told me,” he said, suddenly earnest. “I’ll back you up on whatever you decide to tell them.”

  I listened to his thoughts and knew he was sincere; I was a little uneasy as I realized some of his apparent devotion was due to a romantic view of my situation, with him in the role of the white knight. I guessed I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, it isn’t often that a teenage boy is given the opportunity to play the hero for a genuine damsel in distress, especially a boy like Carey with special abilities and an overdeveloped sense of gallantry.

  Closing the connection between us, I pushed away my misgivings for the moment. I shot Dad an apologetic look, hoping he’d understand that I had to tell Carey what I had. He didn’t look appeased.

  “Ok, so, I guess I’ll call Agent Thrasher and tell him I’m ready to talk,” I said in a falsely cheerful voice. “Carey, would you mind staying to talk with the agent?” He nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Alright then, here goes.”

  Chapter 10

  Thrasher sat on a kitchen chair that Dad had brought into the living room. Carey was still perched on the armchair while Dad and I huddled together on the couch, our nerves skyrocketing at having a federal agent in our home. I had offered him a drink and he accepted a bottle of water, though he hadn’t touched it. He sat comfortably, legs casually stretched in front of him, a pocket-sized notebook in hand. Thrasher was average height with a lean build accentuated by the cut of his standard-issue black suit. His face was long with a strong jaw and a chin that protruded just a bit too far for handsomeness. Short blond hair was smoothed back from his face, making his high forehead and arched brow more prominent; clear blue eyes blazed from deep sockets that made him appear perpetually tired. He wasn’t a handsome man by any means, but there was a vitality and magnetism about the agent that would make you look twice.

  “I understand that you wish to amend your earlier statement, Miss Hannigan,” he said, his voice cool and unperturbed. I was familiar with that tone and had never enjoyed what usually followed.

  “Yes, that’s right. I, uh…” I shot Dad an uncertain look and he patted me on the back reassuringly, murmuring encouragement, just like we’d talked about. It was important to make Thrasher believe that I was reluctant to come forward because of fear. Not that far off really.

  “Miss Hannigan, what is it that you wish to tell me?” Agent Thrasher seemed indifferent and bored, but I knew it was a ploy; his mind was brimming with tension and excitement.

  “Well, sir, I want to tell you that I lied before, when you talked to me.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, showing me I had his attention. “I was the girl that Fitz…um, attacked. I managed to fight him off and then Carey came to see where I had gone and found us.” I cast my eyes down as though I were ashamed. “I asked him to tell the police that he just found the guy he lying there and didn’t know who he attacked. I’m sorry, I know that was wrong, but I was really scared and I didn’t know what else to do.” I wondered about shedding a few tears, but the tenor of Thrasher’s thoughts made me think that might be overkill.

  Thrasher gave Carey a sharp look, but turned his attention back to me. After all, I was the one with the juicy details. “You know that it’s a federal offense to lie to an investigating officer? It’s called obstruction of justice.” He fixed me with a stern glare and I felt my gorge rise.

  “Well, if that’s the case, perhaps I should talk to a lawyer before we continue this. I’m sure they’d be fascinated that a federal agent would question a minor without parental consent. It’s no wonder I was frightened to talk to you,” I spat venomously.

  Dad gave my arm a warning squeeze and I drew back, freshly annoyed with myself. I was ruining the scared little girl image I was supposed to be cultivating. I gave Dad an apologetic shrug and turned my attention back to Thrasher, who was looking strangely satisfied.

  “That’s more like it. She knows something. I knew it, I knew it. Carson was right; she’s a shifty sort.”

  I tried not to be insulted by the uncomplimentary thoughts drifting through the agent’s head. I was just going to have to tell my story and hope
he believed me.

  “Look. I’m not stupid, I know I should’ve told you the truth. But Fitz threatened he would kill my Dad if I told the cops about him.” I leaned back in my chair with a disgusted look on my face. “And no offense, but you didn’t exactly instill unreserved confidence in me the first time we talked.” I was beginning to realize from Thrasher’s mind and history that this approach was more likely to appeal to him. He was a fan of tough cookies.

  A slight twitch of the lips confirmed my assumption and he leaned forward, flipping open his little notebook, pen at the ready. “So how about you tell me what really happened and we’ll see if we can come to an agreement?” I pretended to study him for a moment and then nodded decisively.

  “Fine. Here’s what happened.” I went through the story, embellishing a little when it came to the actual attack and minimizing my defense, making it sound as though I just got lucky. “He had hold of me and was dragging me behind the building where he said he had his car parked,” I said, my voice slightly shaky. “He said he was going to take me to his camper out in the woods where no one would hear me scream. And he said it wouldn’t matter, because he had lots of…blow?” I said uncertainly, looking up at Thrasher. He nodded, expression avid. “And he said he was going to make me do some and then I’d be…friendlier.” There was a sick feeling in my gut as I lied about the man, but I reminded myself that he had killed at least ten people for the Coalition. He deserved whatever he got.

  I paused and listened to Thrasher’s thoughts. He believed me right away, and was only hoping fervently that I had gotten a location for Fitz’s camper. I suppressed a smug smile.

  “Ok, now, Miss Hannigan, I know this is difficult, but do you know where exactly he was taking you?” Thrasher’s voice was trembling with hope. How could I disappoint?

  “Well, I don’t know, the whole thing happened so fast, but I think he said something about Shea Valley Park. I don’t even know where that is,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders slightly.

  “Sir,” Carey cut in, clearing his throat. Thrasher turned his attention to him. “I know where that is. It’s about twenty minutes outside of town, a very isolated area where people go camping and hunting and stuff. There’s a campground at the back of the park where people take RVs. It’s out of season now. Maybe that’s where he meant.”

  Thrasher was silent for a moment, going over the possibilities in his mind. He thought it would be relatively simple to discover which camper was Fitz’s; after all, if it was off season, there couldn’t be many.

  “There’s something else, something she’s not telling me.”

  Thrasher watched me, his brows furrowed in thought. I shifted a little in my seat, terrified that he would reject the whole story and suddenly realize who I was and what I could do.

  “Maybe Fitz got more physical than she wants to admit. She may not have wanted to tell her dad or her boyfriend here. Still, she did a good job of taking care of herself. I’ll check out the camper with Carson, see what we find. Maybe we won’t have to go deeper into this with her. She’s only sixteen anyway; girl like that shouldn’t have to talk about the attack if she doesn’t want to.”

  I was stunned by Thrasher’s rather sensitive view; most of the agents I’d come in contact with before didn’t give two cents for how I felt. But he genuinely didn’t want to cause me distress. I felt uncomfortable having my prejudices challenged like this, and a little resentful. I was good at hating the government; I didn’t want to quit now.

  “May I ask, Agent Thrasher, where’s your partner? I thought he would be here as well,” Dad broke in, voicing something I had wondered when Thrasher had first arrived.

  “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 sho
uld 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.

  Chapter 11

  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.