Minders

by Michele Jaffe

  “So all information from the chi—relays has to come from Minders,” Sadie clarified.

  Curtis nodded. “Yes. Why?”

  At least Ford was safe from her.

  “I—” Sadie fumbled with how to go on. “I was just thinking that it means—it’s important that I remember. What happened. Because you won’t know any other way.” Stop talking, she ordered herself.

  She felt Curtis studying her, but she avoided looking at him, hoping she seemed confused rather than evasive. Now, as though reading her mind, he said, “Given the minor amnesia, I think we should send Miss Ames home and schedule her debriefing in two days.”

  Catrina said, “I humbly disagree.” The word humbly sounded laughable in her mouth, and there was clearly tension between her and Curtis. “I think it would be best if she began debriefing immediately. You and I should be sufficient.”

  “She doesn’t remember anything,” Curtis pointed out.

  Catrina stared at him. “Or maybe she does and she doesn’t want to tell.”

  “I don’t,” Sadie said to no one.

  Curtis’s voice had an edge. “Whatever the case, the best place for her to rest and remember is at home. She would go nuts wandering the halls here, bumping into people.”

  Catrina had seemed ready to object again, but his last words changed her mind. “I suppose that’s true,” she said. “Home is probably better.”

  “Excellent.” Curtis gave her a faint nod. “Please give Miss Ames whatever assistance she needs. I’ll bring in her parents. And then, when her memory returns in a few days, we’ll do the debriefing.” He smiled reassuringly at Sadie.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Sadie was clumsy in her body. It felt strange to move around, and she was struck even more forcefully by how different her perspective was from Ford’s.

  What she noticed most, though, was the silence. It was so quiet in her mind. So… even. After the constant buffeting of Ford’s emotions, she was acutely aware of how little she normally felt.

  God, she missed him.

  • • •

  Sadie showered and dressed and was escorted to a smaller elevator that whisked her quickly up the fourteen stories to the ground floor. A man in a dark suit was waiting to take her to a sitting room she’d never been in. It had French doors that opened out onto the terrace where she’d had her debriefing. Four weeks, four lifetimes ago.

  She paused on the threshold, taking in the scene. Her father was standing by the windows, talking on the phone. Pete was near him, staring out and tapping on one of the panes. Her mother was on the sofa facing the door, in a posture of anticipation. Sadie put on a smile and stepped into the room.

  The smile felt odd, as though her face wasn’t used to it, which was nuts because she’d smiled plenty, laughed plenty, with Ford. But this was a different smile, she realized. A smile that was more considered and careful than the smile of the past five weeks.

  Her mother rose as soon as she saw Sadie. She had tears in her eyes as though she’d just been told bad news. “Darling,” she said, giving Sadie an awkward hug. “It’s wonderful to see you. And a week early. We are delighted.”

  Sadie looked at her mother and felt like she was seeing her for the first time. She was thinner than she remembered, with tiny lines around her eyes. But she also looked more formidable, somehow. “How do you feel?” she asked Sadie.

  “Funny,” Sadie told her. “It’s odd being back in my body.”

  “You don’t look odd at all,” Pete said, coming toward her. “You look good enough to eat.”

  He hugged her, and she had to stop herself from pushing him away. He smelled like cologne, exactly like he always did, but for some reason the scent of it now made her want to gag.

  Instead she pulled back and said, “Let me just look at you.”

  When she did, she felt nothing except a slight tremor of uneasiness. Looking into his eyes, seeing the flatness there beneath the big smile, she knew for certain he didn’t love her.

  And she had to admit what she’d known all along—she didn’t love him either.

  Yet they’d been together for nearly a year. A year of lying to each other and, worse, lying to themselves. Why would they do that?

  Because you were afraid, the answer came to her as her father finished his call and joined them. Not afraid of being alone. Afraid of being unwanted. Uninteresting.

  “Hello, kiddo,” her father said, stepping forward to give her a kiss. His phone beeped, and he winced. “Sorry, have to take this, back in a sec.”

  Unworthy of attention.

  Her mother watched her father go with an expression of annoyance, but when she looked in Sadie’s direction again it shifted to one of triumph. We may compete for his affections, but I will always win, it said. Sadie realized she’d seen that expression over and over again growing up. Every day. She had mistaken it for love.

  And in a way it was, Sadie understood. Because she allowed her mother to feel victorious, and for that her mother was grateful. Without Sadie, there would have been no competition for her father’s attention, no affirmation of supremacy. Possibly no interest.

  Instead of being upset, Sadie felt sorry for her mother. There was so much more to aspire to. Sadie felt like she could see everything so clearly, all the complex dynamics and pallid emotions that were the warp and weft of her life. It wasn’t that she felt muffled right now. This was how her life had always been. Controlled. Safe. Buffered.

  Numb.

  “What’s wrong, darling?” her mother asked, and Sadie wondered what would happen if she told her. If she said she didn’t want to substitute words for feelings anymore, conversation for intimacy. Attention for affection. That she wanted to feel things, even if they were bad or confusing. That she was tired of smiles you had to remind yourself to put on. Would she understand?

  Her father ended his second call and rejoined them. “How about lunch at the yacht club? I don’t know about anyone else, but I could sure use a mimosa.”

  “That sounds great,” Sadie heard herself agreeing.

  Pete drove Sadie’s car, following her parents but keeping up a steady stream of conversation. He kept glancing over at her and grinning.

  “Did you miss me at all?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she told him.

  “Do you still love me?”

  “Of course,” she answered, but the words felt like eraser bits in her mouth.

  Lunch was filled with people coming by the table to talk to her father or mother. Pete kept leaning toward her to kiss her neck, and every time he did her muscles tensed.

  She felt like she was a hollow shell and everything anyone said to her just echoed back to them. And no one noticed, or cared.

  Halfway through lunch Decca showed up, dragging by the hand the bartender from the party her parents had given. She threw herself on Sadie and gave her a giant hug, and Sadie didn’t want to pull away. “Thank god you’re back,” Decca said. “Bosko almost convinced me to take up marathon running, I’ve been so bored and lonely without you.”

  It was a lie, Sadie was sure, since Decca had hundreds of friends, but it didn’t come off as a lie. As they waited for the server to set more places at the table, Decca took Sadie’s hand and said, “We’re going to the bathroom. And if you boys think we’re going to talk about you, you’re right.”

  Instead of heading to the bathroom, Decca led Sadie around the side of the club to the area outside the kitchen where the staff smoked. Club members never went there, so it was relatively discreet.

  “We don’t have a lot of time so I’ll cut to it. What’s the problem, sweetie?”

  “Nothing,” Sadie said. When Decca kept looking at her Sadie felt herself cracking. “I don’t know. Everything is wrong. Nothing has changed, but everything feels completely wrong.”

  Decca bit her lip. “When my parents were still married, every time my father would come back from a business trip, whether it was for a night or a week, they would
fight. Every time. It was like coming back made it hard to get the rhythm right again. I called it the reentry period. You were gone for almost six weeks and you took a trip somewhere very different. I’m sure it’s normal to feel out of sorts.”

  Sadie nodded. That sounded right. True.

  Except for the part where you were the eyewitness to a murder committed by the guy you love, and were helping to cover it up by not telling anyone. And the part where you couldn’t stand to be touched by your boyfriend. And your parents looked like painted marionettes, and your life looked like a hollow baroque opera.

  “What did your mom and dad do during the reentry periods?” Sadie asked.

  “They found liquor helped.”

  “Then it sounds like we should be getting back to lunch.” She hugged Decca tightly. “Thank you for being such an amazing friend.”

  Decca looked at her steadily. “You’ve changed.”

  Sadie had to take a deep breath. “Maybe. I—I felt alive for the first time.”

  Decca’s eyes got huge, but all she said was “Come on. We may need to stop at the bar for shots.”

  After lunch Pete drove Sadie home. He bent over to kiss her at every light and held her hand the whole drive. The thought of doing anything with him made her skin crawl, but she wasn’t sure how to say no without provoking a fight.

  So, she asked herself, why not provoke a fight? The thought surprised her, stunning in its simplicity, so obvious and yet so foreign. Could she do it? Would she?

  He pulled up at the end of her street a block from her driveway. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I was hoping we could spend some time, just the two of us, before we got to your house. You know how your mom goes all puritan.” He turned toward her. “I missed you so much, babe. I’ve been saving up all this stuff to tell you, but right now all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”

  He lowered his head and closed his eyes. She put her hand on his chest. “Pete, I can’t do this.”

  He sat back and blinked, surprised. “Do what? Make out with me? I know the car isn’t that comfortable. Should we risk going to your house?”

  “No, it’s not the car. It’s—” Sadie ran through a dozen excuses. She was tired, she still felt strange from Syncopy, she shouldn’t have done that Bailey’s shot with Decca. They were all comfortable. Easy. What she would have done in the past.

  She said, “I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

  He stared at her. “I don’t think I understand. Do you mean anymore today? Or anymore ever?”

  “Ever.” She said it quietly, looking at her hands.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  He sounded so plaintive, she felt a twinge of remorse. “No. You were perfect. Great. I just—I’ve realized I need to make some changes in my life. Learn new patterns. Start fresh.”

  “Start fresh.” He repeated the phrase as though he were new to the language. “That’s what you call dumping someone you said you loved?”

  “I did—do love you,” Sadie said, feeling the situation get out of her control. “But not the way you deserve.”

  He stared at his lap, shaking his head.

  “I’m really sorry, Pete,” she told him honestly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Well, that makes it all better then, your not meaning to.” He kept his eyes on his lap a few more moments, and Sadie had the impression of someone pulling on a mask. When he faced her he looked confused and hurt, but there was something winking behind his eyes. “I waited for you for a year. A year of letting you tease me, pretend one day I’d be good enough for you, one day I’d be worthy, just ‘not tonight.’” Putting the words in air quotes. “I can’t believe what a fool you made of me.”

  “I never meant to. I never meant to tease you.”

  He ignored that, but his tone softened and became almost plaintive. “Are you sure about this, Sadie? Really sure? Because once you tell me to go, I’ll go and not come back.”

  It was an invitation more than a challenge, Sadie knew, a subtle bump to steer her in the right direction. Pull out a nice ribbon of excuses—I’m tired, I have my period, I feel sick—and keep the game alive.

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  The petty spite that had been concealed behind his mild exterior blazed out now. “A year. A year for this. Everyone told me you were cold, but I thought there had to be fire, a spark, something inside of you. News flash: There’s not. You’re just a manipulative bitch who likes attention and thinks she’s too good for everyone.”

  After Ford’s anger, after everything she’d seen, Pete’s tantrum was more sad than scary. “Agree to disagree,” she said.

  He stared at her. When he didn’t seem to be making a move to leave, she said, “Do you want a ride somewhere?”

  He shook his head. “I mean it. When I leave today, I never want to hear from you again. Ever. Not even a big apology.”

  “Okay, bye,” she said, willing him out of the car.

  It still seemed to take forever for him to get his seat belt off and get out. When he finally did, his big exit line was “Have a nice life.”

  “I think I just might,” she told him.

  She should be sad, she thought. But instead, as she walked around to the driver’s side of the car, she felt a soaring sense of relief.

  She put on the radio and was about to turn into her driveway when a news bulletin said, “A spokeswoman from Central Hospital has issued a statement saying that millionaire Mason Bligh, who inherited the Bligh chemical fortune when he was twelve, has been transferred out of intensive care and is currently in critical condition. Bligh was found unconscious near the former France Stone quarry late Wednesday evening after the Range Rover he was driving exploded. The identity of the second victim in the wreck has not been released.”

  Sadie dialed her mother’s cell phone. “I’m going for a drive to clear my head,” she said, the lie coming without any compunction at all.

  “Of course, dear,” her mother answered.

  Sadie was surprised by how little time it took to get to City Center.

  CHAPTER 31

  She had never seen him in person before. It hit Sadie as she was approaching Mason’s room at Central Hospital. She was going to see Ford, on the outside, for the first time, and she felt giddy and terrified at once.

  Mason was asleep on the bed and Ford was dozing when she walked in. It took all her self-control not to touch him. Even in the dim light filtering through the hospital room blinds he was spectacularly handsome: dark hair, slight stubble, wide shoulders, his hands broad and strong and—

  For a split second she saw that last moment after he’d shot Willy, when Willy’s face became James’s, saying “You?” and she felt a shiver of fear. What if he really wasn’t what she thought? What if—

  There was an explanation. There had to be. It was an old memory that got looped in at the wrong time, an accident of the light, something.

  He woke up and caught her standing there, staring at him. His eyes opened halfway at first, then all the way. He stared at her with what looked like alarm and said something she couldn’t catch.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

  He shook his head, a frown replacing his alarm. “Who are you?”

  His voice sounded different than when she was inside his head, but still nice. Still familiar.

  “I’m a friend,” she answered quickly. “He’s going to live, isn’t he? Mason? What happened to B— to the other passenger?”

  His eyes were taking her in carefully, and she wondered what he was thinking. Had his vision dimmed when she said she was Mason’s friend? Did she merit even a flutter from the drums? It was so strange not to know what was going on inside his head.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you a reporter?”

  She’d planned her approach in the car, but seeing him had already made her go completely off track. “Actually,” she said, giving up on t
he script, “I’m here to see you.”

  That made him alert, but not in a good way. “Why? Who sent you?”

  “No one. I sent myself.” She doubted the hospital was bugged, but it seemed wise to be circumspect. “I—I saw what happened when you went to church on Thursday.”

  “What are you talking about?” He was on guard, cagy.

  She almost laughed, thinking, Seriously, now is when you’re going to start exercising restraint? Today is the day you start thinking before you speak? But they didn’t have time for that. “I know what you did. I understand. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

  Ford put up his hands. “Lady, miss, whoever, thank you for coming, but it’s time for you to go.”

  “Where did you get the gloves and—the other thing?”

  He looked truly baffled. “Do you need a nurse?”

  “Are they somewhere safe?”

  “I think you might be on the wrong floor.”

  “Where is he?” she whispered urgently. “Did you leave him there, or did you take him somewhere?”

  “I bet someone in the psych ward is missing you. Why don’t we find a nurse and—” He stood.

  Sadie wanted to scream with frustration. “I want to help you, but you have to let me. We don’t have much time. I have to tell them everything in two days.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding like he was trying to keep a crazy person calm. “Go ahead. Good luck.”

  He didn’t seem to be pretending, Sadie thought. Maybe he really had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe he’d completely blotted it out. His mind had been strange, and it was definitely traumatic. Maybe if she asked him about something that happened before he snapped, some detail…

  “You can tell when people are bluffing at poker by how they move their fingers. That’s how you were able to play blindfolded and win at the Castle.”

  That got his attention. He took a step toward her. “What are you—”

  She gave up on caution. “Willy asked you how you did the trick. You lied to him.”

  He took another step toward her. “How can you know that?”