“Uh oh,” Clarice muttered, and she slowed as they approached the crowd.
“Hey!” someone shouted, pointing right at the car, “It’s her!”
Jamie felt the panic rise, worried they were going to get swarmed in an eager mob, or worse, an angry one, but the crowd made way for Clarice’s car, parting. She looked at them then looked askance at Jamie. “Uhm …?”
“I think you can drive through,” Jamie said, watching the people surrounding them, mesmerized as they waved and cheered, not too loud, though. There were signs in their midst bearing slogans like, “We believe in you!” Someone was shushing them; someone who had seen Kyra sleeping against the window, telling them, “Keep it down! You’ll wake her kid!”
“What’s going on?” Kyra asked, coming off the window, voice slurred from sleep.
“Welcoming committee,” Jamie said as the car slowly cruised up the street and Clarice steered it carefully into the driveway. “Of some kind.” Jamie tensed, ready to drop a series of channels around them that would clear ten feet of space in a second. She took a breath and then opened the door and stepped out of the car.
The crowd receded, giving her space. “Uhm, hi,” Jamie said, suddenly self-conscious. She was still wearing her costume, but her face was exposed, and that was not a natural feeling to her, even now. “What are you doing here?”
“Jamie,” said a guy up front. He looked familiar, and it took her a second to realize he was the cop that had put her in handcuffs. “We’re—we’re here to watch your back.” The crowd cheered again; they had to be hundreds strong, filling the street. She caught a glimpse of a neighbor, staring at her, hands clapping together. “You’re our hero, after all, and, uh … we didn’t want you to have to worry about your family while you’re out saving others peoples’. So we’ll watch your house, watch out for your daughter.” He nodded, and she saw others doing the same. “Hey, we stick together. We’ve got your back.”
Jamie stood there, still, a little tingle running up her spine. Maybe it would be all right, after all. “And I’ve got yours,” she said, and she could feel the smile breaking through as she said it. “All of yours.”
94.
Sienna
“I told her to just drop the ‘Gal’ and go with ‘Gravity,’” I said into the phone the next morning as I scooped my luggage off the carousel at MSP—Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport.
“Really?” Reed asked through the phone. His tone was hard to pin down.
“I thought it sounded cooler.” I headed for the doors, figuring I’d just fly low over Bloomington and drop my bag off at home. I’d already exchanged some texts to set up my afternoon plans.
“Lame,” Reed pronounced. “Also, already taken. A Google search, that’s all I’m saying, and you’d spare yourself the pain of ignorance.”
I rolled my eyes as I stepped out into the warm day and lifted off the ground. I’d need to keep low near the airport so as not to knock a plane out of the sky. “So I’m bad at naming things.”
“Probably the least of the numerous reasons you should never have children,” he said smugly. He got like this when he knew things and I didn’t. He was quiet for a second, and then said, “Did you hear about Nadine Griffin’s mansion burning down?”
“It was in the papers at the airport,” I said, trying to play it off casual. “Looks like she bolted or something, maybe to avoid an arson charge.”
“Maybe,” Reed said, pretty neutral. I didn’t want to fish for his opinion on the matter because … I wasn’t sure I wanted to encourage him to look deeper. It was entirely possible he’d already settled his suspicions on me, and if he had, I didn’t want to give him fodder for it. “You think she’ll turn up again?”
“I hope so,” I said, “I’d really like to punch her in the face. You know, for old times’ sake. But she’s pretty crafty, so I doubt she’ll get caught.”
He was quiet for a minute. “If she was that crafty, you’d think she would have been smart enough to avoid burning down her own mansion.”
“Touché,” I said, not daring to usher him off the phone so I could fly without having to hold it up to my ear. I was clear of the airport now, but holding myself to a hundred feet or so off of 494 West. “I—”
“Augustus and I need to do a little work on this thing,” he said, sounding … normal? I hoped. “I should let you go.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering if he was hanging up because he suspected what I’d done, or if he was telling the truth. Oh, what a tangled web. “Talk to you later.”
“Enjoy the State Fair,” he said, and I felt a moment of apprehension as I hung up. I hadn’t said anything to him about going to the State Fair today.
I flew on, veering north and following 35W toward my house. I set down in the grassy backyard and opened the door. It was all quiet, so I dropped my suitcase, changed into something a little more summery, strapping my pistol in my waistband with a sigh—I’d missed Shadow—threw on a light overshirt to keep it from imprinting and left, locking the door again behind me. I checked my text messages and smiled as I stood there in the sun.
See you soon, the latest message said, and I took off into the sky, heading northeast.
I set down outside the State Fair grounds a little while later to “Oohs!” and “Aahs!” of tourists from outstate marveling at my entrance. I bought my ticket and presented it at the turnstile, then flew over the street, neatly dodging the rickety wooden walkover ramp and heading straight into the grounds.
I landed by the Australian Potato Stand, the smell of sweet, fried goodness lingering in the air. The animal barns were nearby, but even they couldn’t extinguish the wondrous fried smell of the potatoes. I could see the milk booth down the way, and the stand where they sold the deep fried breakfast sandwiches. It wasn’t a mystery to me why assholes on the internet talked about my ass, but I’d be damned if I was going to pass up a bucket of Sweet Martha’s cookies later, because if I did, the internet trolls would win, and we couldn’t have that.
“Hey,” came a voice from behind me, and I turned to look at a man who was standing there, staring at me.
“Hey yourself,” I said, then realized he had Australian potatoes, sliced longways, breaded, fried, and saturated with ranch on one side and cheese sauce on the other. I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got good taste.”
“Tell me about it,” he said and offered a potato. I chose one smothered in ranch with just a hint of the cheese. It was still steaming, hot, and it tasted fabulous. “By the way you look … amazing.” He gave me the up and down. “Stunning. Really. I feel like a flashbang went off behind my eyes.”
“You don’t know how to talk to girls for shit,” I teased, scooping another potato from his plate without asking. There was a tiny paper Australian flag stuck in the top of the mound, affixed to a toothpick. “But you do all right with me.”
“Well,” Jeremy Hampton said, grinning, “you’re different than most girls.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “For instance, most girls can’t pull off a CZ-75 Shadow inside the waistband.”
I stared back at him, tall and gorgeous. My very own training officer, former FBI Hostage Rescue guy, and pretty damned handy man. My employee. Hostile workplace lawsuit waiting to happen.
Good thing he hit on me first.
“I’m glad to see you here,” I said as he threaded an arm around my waist. He offered the potatoes again, but I passed. I had designs on the deep-fried Oreos and deep-fried pickles, and even with my meta metabolism, I had to pace myself. I put my arm around his waist in return.
“Did you think I’d stand you up?” he asked, leading me up the road past the concrete bunker of the Lee and Rose Warner Coliseum.
“No,” I said, shrugging as he discarded the rest of the potatoes in a trashcan. There were way too many of them for us to finish them all. “I just …” A few ideas passed through my head, all boiling down to one thing …
Why the hell would any sensible, good-looking, i
ntelligent, decent and totally badass man want to hang out with … me?
“I’m just glad to see you,” I said, feeling a little burn of guilt. He didn’t know what I’d done. Reed might not know. Augustus didn’t know. That was the price of the secrets I hid behind the mask I wore every day.
Secrets. They might just be eating me alive.
But to get rid of Nadine Griffin … maybe that was a secret worth the price.
As I stared into Jeremy’s eyes, walking down Judson Avenue, a crowd of happy Minnesotans around me, I smiled to myself. I’d keep this one secret, but … no more. Let them all out, live open, be better—like Jamie. That was what I needed to do.
No more secrets, I thought, as I took his hand in mine, just for a few seconds, feeling his warm skin against mine, like the sun shining down on us both.
No more secrets.
Well … except for that one other.
Epilogue
The White House
Washington, DC
President Gerry Harmon stared at Scott Byerly across the Resolute desk. The young man looked shamed, his complexion dark, eyes downcast. He’d come himself, like a child called on the carpet in a headmaster’s office. Harmon stared at him, watching him, but he already had the full measure of the man. The visual inspection was just for show, really.
“I …” Byerly shook his head. “She’s too strong. Too crafty. She killed Nadine Griffin, I’m sure of it.” There was a wince as he said that, pain behind the eyes. “But I can’t prove a thing.”
Harmon watched him. He’d known what Scott Byerly was going to say, of course, before he even entered the room. Excuses were predictable in their way, after all. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “Here’s the good news for you … I’ve already laid the groundwork for getting you some help.”
Byerly looked up, the confusion showing. He just wasn’t that bright. “You … did?”
“Of course,” Harmon said lightly, with a smile. The appearances needed to be observed, after all. “I released Jamie Barton from federal custody, didn’t I? Time was, we would have thrown her right into the Cube and let her rot there forever.” He stood up. “But my constituency has been making some noise about this for a while, and never let it be said I’m not open to listening and changing my position.” He came around the desk and leaned against it. “And that’s where we’ll find your help.”
Byerly frowned at him. “I … I don’t understand. Where?”
“The Cube,” Harmon said. He was used to explaining things to people who didn’t understand. He’d gone into politics for much the same reason, like Prometheus, bringing fire to the humans. “I can think of about fifteen or so people in federal custody—people she put away, without much in the way of evidence, people languishing, some of them for years …” He smiled with relish as comprehension finally spread across the young Byerly’s face, “… people who are just dying to help you … with your Sienna Nealon problem.”
Sienna Nealon will return in
PRISONERS
Out of the Box, Book 10
Coming October 11, 2016!
Author's Note
If you want to know immediately when future books become available, take sixty seconds and sign up for my NEW RELEASE EMAIL ALERTS by CLICKING HERE. I don't sell your information and I only send out emails when I have a new book out. The reason you should sign up for this is because I don't always set release dates, and even if you're following me on Facebook (robertJcrane (Author)) or Twitter (@robertJcrane), it's easy to miss my book announcements because…well, because social media is an imprecise thing.
Come join the discussion on my website: http://www.robertjcrane.com !
Cheers,
Robert J. Crane
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Editorial/Literary Janitorial duties performed by Sarah Barbour and Jeffrey Bryan. Final proofing was handle by Jo Evans. Any errors you see in the text, however, are the result of me rejecting changes. Because I'm a special snowflake, obviously, and the rules of spelling and grammar mean fuck-all to me. I'm trying to tell a story here, people, don't let this petty bullshit get in my way. (I'm mostly joking about that.) Also, Jeff Bryan contributed the moniker, “Sleazy Snowman,” for Captain Frost, and that seems worthy of mention.
Thanks to Tianna Walters for the Staten Island local connection. Any errors you find can be attributed to me. Tianna took the Staten Island ferry and the subways all the way up to midtown to hang out with me in the Times Square Starbucks described in the book with pretty much no notice, and gave me a different perspective on New York City than the one I'd gotten as a tourist. Muchas gracias to her.
Alexa Medhus also gave this book a once-over and provided much-needed affirmation that I had crafted a fun villain with Nadine Griffin, so thanks to her for that. I considered changing Nadine's name to Alexa, but figured that might be a little too evil, even for me.
Once more, thanks to my parents, my kids and my wife, for helping me keep things together.
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
The Sanctuary Series
Epic Fantasy
Defender: The Sanctuary Series, Volume One
Avenger: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Two
Champion: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Three
Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four
Sanctuary Tales, Volume One - A Short Story Collection
Thy Father's Shadow: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 4.5
Master: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Five
Fated in Darkness: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 5.5
Warlord: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Six
Heretic: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Seven
Legend: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Eight* (Coming Soon!)
A Haven in Ash: Ashes of Luukessia Trilogy, Volume One (Coming Late 2016/Early 2017!)
The Girl in the Box
and
Out of the Box
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Alone: The Girl in the Box, Book 1
Untouched: The Girl in the Box, Book 2
Soulless: The Girl in the Box, Book 3
Family: The Girl in the Box, Book 4
Omega: The Girl in the Box, Book 5
Broken: The Girl in the Box, Book 6
Enemies: The Girl in the Box, Book 7
Legacy: The Girl in the Box, Book 8
Destiny: The Girl in the Box, Book 9
Power: The Girl in the Box, Book 10
Limitless: Out of the Box, Book 1
In the Wind: Out of the Box, Book 2
Ruthless: Out of the Box, Book 3
Grounded: Out of the Box, Book 4
Tormented: Out of the Box, Book 5
Vengeful: Out of the Box, Book 6
Sea Change: Out of the Box, Book 7
Painkiller: Out of the Box, Book 8
Masks: Out of the Box, Book 9
Prisoners: Out of the Box, Book 10* (Coming October 11, 2016!)
Southern Watch
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Called: Southern Watch, Book 1
Depths: Southern Watch, Book 2
Corrupted: Southern Watch, Book 3
Unearthed: Southern Watch, Book 4
Legion: Southern Watch, Book 5
Starling: Southern Watch, Book 6* (Coming in Late 2016 – Tentatively)
*Forthcoming and subject to change
Masks (Out of the Box Book 9) Page 34