Echo 8

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  Jake hesitated. “Um, Doctor…”

  Ross knew what she meant but only because he’d read her doctoral thesis.

  She smiled. “Sorry, it doesn’t have to be that complicated. Based on this idea of links we can’t see, some scientists have hypothesized that our universe and everything in it is connected—like a web, or a network. Some of us who’ve studied you believe that your individual energy was drawn from your universal web, and you’re severed from it now.”

  “You’re saying our batteries run down, and we can’t connect to the battery charger.”

  “Yes, good analogy.”

  “But we can drain power off your batteries.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which is what I did to you. But you’re still alive.”

  “For some reason you released me before I was…”

  “Sucked dry?”

  Tess and Jake stood staring at each other. If she replied, it was too quiet for Ross to hear. Finally Jake stepped back from the window and began to pace. Ross breathed and let his hand fall away from his weapon.

  “I’m sorry,” said Tess, watching Jake. “I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

  “Did he tell you I killed myself? Your boyfriend, I mean.”

  Ross stiffened with surprise, and wariness. His eyes darted from the fade to Tess.

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Do you mean Agent McGinnis?”

  “Yeah, the Fed. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome.”

  “He’s not … I’m not involved with him.” Ross leaned closer to the glass. He read nothing but surprise in her face. She doesn’t remember.

  “Agent McGinnis is here to help me with my work.”

  Ross straightened, guilt worming through his intestines. She was partly right. The White House did want them to work together, but mainly so Ross could monitor her activities. Her mentor had resented the fact that the United States—and specifically the Bureau—had taken the lead in addressing the Echo threat. Professor Goff had been vocal in his disapproval of the shootings, and of the policy to keep the public in the dark about the danger. Tess and Goff were viewed as valuable resources—and security risks.

  Jake stopped pacing and looked at Tess. “He’s not a very good boyfriend, leaving you alone with a murderer.”

  The expression Tess now wore was all too familiar to Ross. The knit brows, with the upside-down “v” between them. The pursed lips.

  “You’re not a murderer, Jake. It’s a survival instinct. But he did tell me that you took your own life. Do you want to tell me why?”

  “No, I don’t. I want to talk about you now.”

  Tess folded her arms. “I thought we had an agreement.”

  “We do. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But apparently I’m not going to be around much longer, and I like the sound of your voice. So humor me for a minute, okay, Doctor?”

  Jesus, what kind of game was this? The fade was f lirting with her. Jake seemed like he was probably an okay guy in his former life—maybe a touch cocky and manipulative. But he was a predator now, and he was standing just a few feet from a woman who was so wrapped up in her job she seemed to forget she needed to keep breathing to do it.

  “Okay,” replied Tess. “What do you want to know?”

  “How did you get interested in this kind of work?”

  “This is not the kind of work I normally do. I spend most of my time compiling study results. Or reading other people’s study results.”

  “But how did you get interested in psychic stuff?”

  Ross closed his eyes as the tension in his gut worked its way to his chest. This was something Tess didn’t want to talk about—something Jake had no business knowing, or Ross either for that matter. But Ross did know, because he’d read the Bureau’s file on her.

  Tess grew very quiet, and Jake waited.

  “My mother had precognitive ability.”

  “You mean she knew things before they happened?”

  Tess nodded. “She was always predicting things. Small things. Not like natural disasters. Like my grandmother was going to call, or a friend was going to turn out to be pregnant. My aunt called them ‘little prophecies.’”

  The shrinks had hardly been able to get Tess to talk about her mother, yet here she was, opening up to Jake. There was no reason Ross should be annoyed, but he was.

  “Was she always right?” asked Jake.

  “She was. At least that’s what I remember. One time she knew my hamster was going to die, and she made sure I was gone the day it happened.”

  Ross smiled, and so did Tess. But she wasn’t smiling at him.… She was smiling at Jake.

  “Was it weird growing up with that?”

  “Not at all.” Tess laughed. “I thought everyone’s mom could do it.”

  Jake’s hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans, and he stepped closer to the door. “When did she die?”

  “A long time ago. When I was a kid.”

  Seven-year-old Tess had jumped on top of her mother’s casket as they were lowering it. They’d had to fish her out of the mud. Her psychologist father had put her on kiddie antidepressants, because he already had a weird wife and he didn’t want a weird daughter.

  “After she died, I decided she was magic,” Tess continued. “I made up this story and told it to myself for years. I was in high school before I really let it go.”

  Jake leaned against the doorframe again, and Ross could see his profile. He could also see Jake’s hands balled into fists in his pockets. The fade must be feeling an urge to feed—why was he standing so close? He could ask her to go away. He could cross to the other side of the room. He could break through the glass and grab her. Why was he standing there, enduring discomfort?

  You know why, asshole. He likes her.

  “What was the story you made up?” Jake asked.

  She gave him a sheepish smile. “Did you ever read A Wrinkle in Time?”

  “Sure.” He nodded. “I worked in a bookstore for ten years.”

  “Well, I must have read that book a dozen times, and it was a lot like that. She was off visiting another dimension, and someday, when I was older, she was going to come back and take me there too. I didn’t fantasize she’d come back and we’d all be a family again, like in the book. I didn’t want to share her with my dad. Isn’t that awful?”

  “Not if he’s anything like my dad,” Jake muttered, glancing away.

  While Jake’s gaze was off her, Tess dabbed at her eyes, and Ross dug his fingers into his thigh. Emotionally impenetrable, one evaluation had read. He remembered thinking that didn’t sound like something a psychologist should say, especially about a little kid.

  “Okay,” said Jake. “You held up your end. You wanted to know what it felt like—what I did to you?”

  “Yes,” replied Tess. “Let’s start with that.”

  “You may be sorry.”

  Jake shifted so he was standing in front of the door. He planted a hand on either side and leaned in, so Ross could no longer see Tess.

  Ross drew his weapon and stepped toward the observation room door, still watching the window.

  “I could feel you, the whole time we were talking. Your warmth. Your energy. Something emanated out of you, like a field of tangible light. Warm and amber. Thick like honey.”

  Ross reached for the door handle.

  “When you touched me…” Jake shook his head. “It was like I plunged into molten light. It enveloped me, seeping into my pores. I tasted you on my tongue, in the back of my throat. Felt you pulsing through my veins. Along my nerve fibers. I didn’t want to stop.”

  There was a long, electric pause. Ross couldn’t see Tess. Was she afraid? She sure as hell should be.

  She cleared her throat, replying in a voice that quavered, “But you did.”

  “I knew I was hurting you.”

  Tess drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “That’s good, Jake. A good sign. It means you have some control over it. We ca
n work with that.”

  Jake nodded his head, but he didn’t reply.

  “Your description … it was really beautiful. Like a poem.”

  Jake stared at her, and so did Ross. Could she possibly have missed the overt sensuality in Jake’s description, or was she choosing to overlook it?

  “There’s something wrong with you,” Jake said, giving voice to Ross’s own thoughts. “I’ve just told you I wanted to eat you.”

  Tess smiled. “Is that what you said? It sounded much nicer than that. You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

  “Songwriter. I’m a musician. I was.”

  Jake shuffled his feet through another pause, and Tess said, “Listen, I need to go upstairs for a while. But there’s something I want to try, and it’s safer to do it now, while you’re still feeling strong.”

  The hairs stood up on the back of Ross’s neck. He twisted the door handle.

  “Will you put your hand against the window for me?”

  * * *

  Tess turned at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Ross came out of nowhere, inserting an arm between her and the door.

  “I can’t let you do that, Dr. Caufield.”

  She scanned the hallway behind him. “Were you in the observation room all this time?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have let you know I was back. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  It was difficult to ascertain how sincere he was because of his controlled exterior.

  “Well, there are two of you now.” She glanced at Agent Swain, standing a few yards from the door, and steeled herself for the battle to come. “I want to try an experiment with Jake.”

  Ross stared at her, his tone icy calm as he replied. “You almost died last night, Doctor.” His eyes moved over her and she flushed, knowing her legs shook from the effort of supporting her weight.

  He was right. But when it came to Ross, it somehow felt like they had the history of a failed relationship between them. All defensiveness and mistaken assumptions. She was no longer sure when she was asserting herself professionally or reacting to him personally.

  “Jake is a gift, Ross,” she said, matching his all-business tone. “And he’s my subject. If you keep interfering, we’ll learn nothing from him. This is not what you were sent here to do.”

  The agent’s expression darkened. “I was sent here to protect you. And what you seem to most need at the moment is protection from yourself.”

  Resentment flared, burning through the dregs of her strength. Her breathing shallowed from the hard work of remaining upright.

  But uncertainty gnawed away the edge on her anger. What if he was right about this too? Jake was important—her work with him was important—but what if she was risking herself just to spite Ross?

  She needed time to think. Turning from Ross, she said, “We’ll talk soon, Jake.”

  “Okay, Doc,” he replied. When she reached the end of the hallway she heard him murmur, “You’re in over your head, G-man.”

  OFFERINGS

  * * *

  The Higgs boson essentially holds the universe together. It gives particles mass, which allows them to bind together and form things, like stars and planets and Donald Trump’s hair.

  —Rex Huppke, “God Particles for Dummies,” Chicago Tribune online

  * * *

  TESS NEEDED sleep to cope with Jake. She needed sleep to cope with Ross. But there was so much to do. She was halfway through an email to the task force when her body decided to take what it needed.

  Two hours later she was awakened by a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” she croaked. It was Ross, of course. There was hardly anyone else left.

  “I brought a peace offering,” he replied through the door.

  She couldn’t help smiling at the conciliatory tone. “What makes you think I want to make peace?”

  “Oh, I think you do. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  How did he know she was childish about surprises?

  She sat up in bed, shoving her laptop to one side and running a hand through her hair. “It’s not locked.”

  The door opened and in he came, carrying a tall paper cup in front of him like a shield. The coffee was from the café down the street. The cup bore the silhouette of an angular man who looked like a century-old, film noir version of Ross—fedora, trench coat, and pointy shoes. Cigarette, complete with a little curl of smoke.

  The smell reached her before he did, and she held out her hands.

  “I apologize,” he said, handing it over.

  Their fingers brushed as hers closed around the cup. The chill had crept back over her while she slept, but the contact—with both the cup and the man—warmed her.

  “And what are you apologizing for, Special Agent McGinnis?” She gave him a tired smile. “Just so I’m clear which element of your behavior struck you as inappropriate.”

  He fixed his eyes on her, dark gray and inscrutable. It occurred to Tess that he was the only person she’d ever known with sexy eyelids—heavy and slow-blinking, like he’d just woken up, no matter what time of day.

  “The remark I made about protecting you—it was unprofessional.”

  Tess sipped her coffee. Double twelve-ounce latte, no syrup. Observant. But then he was an FBI agent. “I accept your apology. I apologize too.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Don’t look so shocked.”

  “What are you apologizing for, Doctor Caufield?” He almost smiled. It touched his eyes but not his lips. “Just so I’m clear which element of your behavior struck you as inappropriate.”

  Tess studied him, gauging his mood. He was guarded, as usual, but his expression had lost the closed-off, professional coolness. It was as good a time as any to start again. To let go of that unfortunate first meeting and try to find a better footing for their working relationship.

  “I know I can be naïve, Ross,” she began. “But I do understand you’re answerable to your superiors and not to me. I know the work we’re doing here is too important not to be closely monitored by Washington. Especially now that we’ve got one of them here.”

  The tight line of his shoulders relaxed. He waited for her to continue.

  “I work with people on a very personal level. I’m guessing it’s not what you’re used to, but I don’t know how else to be.”

  Ross turned, grabbing the armchair across from the couch and angling it toward the bed before sitting down. “You are a psychologist.”

  “And a researcher. I’m used to being completely open with my colleagues. Sharing information. I’m used to them trusting me. I’m used to being able to trust them.”

  He leaned his elbows on his knees, causing those David-like muscles in his arms to bunch and flex, stretching the thin cotton of his T-shirt. The damned sexy eyelids lowered to half-mast, and he looked up through his eyelashes at her. Long, black eyelashes no man had a right to.

  “You and I don’t trust each other,” he said.

  “Right.” Tess sighed. “It’s driven me crazy since the day you arrived. At first I thought it was you driving me crazy.” Ross chuckled against his folded hands. “But really, I think it’s because I know I can’t build the kind of working relationship with you I’m used to. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  Ross nodded. “I can understand that. I just don’t know that there’s anything I can do about it.”

  “No. It’s one of the things I need to accept about you, so we can move on. I’m also trying to accept that you can’t tell me everything about why they sent you. But, Ross—”

  “There’s something you want from me in return.”

  She ran her thumb over the image on the coffee cup. “I need to take the lead in managing Jake. You can report whatever you want—whatever you need to—to the people you work for. But you have to let me make the decisions about how to interact with him. About how to study him.” She glanced up. “Do you think you can do that?”

  Ross took
a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. “I’m trying. I really am. You have to understand … it’s not that I don’t trust you to do your job, but it’s my responsibility to keep you alive. Goff’s only been dead a week. The French scientist was killed two weeks before that. We can’t afford to keep losing Echo experts.” He leveled his gaze at her. “And you take risks, Tess.”

  She nodded. “Yes. But we won’t learn anything new if we don’t take risks. The whole body of scientific discovery rests on that premise. Jake’s important to my research. He and others like him are critical to resolving this crisis—something we all want. And the clock is running down for him.”

  Ross covered his face with his hands, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He thought for a minute, and he said, “His life is not more important than yours. If we can agree on that, I will make more of an effort to take care of my responsibilities without interfering with yours.”

  He dropped his hands and looked at her, and she nodded. “Agreed.” She drained the last of her coffee and set the cup on the nightstand. “Are you ready to go back downstairs?”

  “Are you? You look exhausted.”

  Noting the half circles under his eyes, she smiled. “That makes two of us.”

  “I didn’t almost die last night.”

  “Hmm, true.”

  As she slipped on her shoes he said, “Dr. Bakshi wants to check you before she goes. Why don’t we do that first?”

  She didn’t want to spend another minute away from her fading subject, but she’d just agreed to compromise. “Okay, good idea.”

  * * *

  Jake was still able to come to the window when she tapped on it, but he moved slowly, and he’d lost the catlike sense of alertness. Just over twelve hours had passed, but leaving Tess alive may have also left him with less than a full charge.

  “Isn’t there some law of physics that says mass can’t be lost?” Jake said, glancing at his semitransparent arm. “I’m pretty sure I’m short about half a measure.”