Sketches

by Teyla Branton

  Jaxon was surprised at the question. “Not much. I mean, I saw a few she did today for a case we’re working, but I don’t remember much from the Coop about it. Just that she was always drawing when we weren’t playing. Or at least ever since she visited you and came home with the sketchbooks.”

  “When she came here, she was fascinated with my work, and I could tell she had some ability. Even as a child she could capture emotion perfectly.” Theena shook her head, a hint of pride in her smile. “If I’d been able to capture that as well as she did, I wouldn’t have a house full of unsaleable paintings. I told her she should try oils, but she likes her pencils best.”

  As she talked, something teased at the back of Jaxon’s mind. Something about Reese’s drawings . . .

  “Here we are.” Reese came into the room with three sketchbooks. She was wearing a yellow blouse with delicate buttons up the front and jeans that drew Jaxon’s eyes to her curves. “Sorry I took so long,” she said. “I found some old clothes in my closet that were a little better fitting.”

  Theena stood. “I’ll let you two talk. I’ve got some cleaning up to do in the kitchen.”

  Jaxon sprang up. “I can help,” he offered, at the same time Reese said, “Let me—”

  Theena waved them back to their seats. “No. It’s late, and I plan to leave most of it for morning anyway. It’ll give me something to do tomorrow. I’ll put the ice cream in the freezer, but go ahead and get it out again if you decide you want more.” She came around and kissed Reese’s cheek. “We’ll talk in the morning. I’m so glad you’re here. Just lock up after your friend leaves.” To Jaxon, she added. “It was nice to meet you. I hope to have the pleasure again in the future.”

  “Me too.” He shook her hand before sinking back into his chair.

  Reese settled next to him and opened the first sketchbook. The first pictures weren’t very good, but at least half of them had names, and he recorded those on his iTeev as she turned the pages. By halfway through the book her skill had improved, and he recognized more of the people.

  “There’s Eagle,” he said, pointing at a boy with thick glasses. “I wonder if he ever had surgery, or if his problem was something they were able to fix.”

  All of their crew were depicted in her drawings, but there were more of Jaxon than anyone. Only two were self-portraits, and these he stared at with interest. They were exactly as he remembered Reese from that time.

  The first pages in the second sketchbook held images of their classmates when they were in level seven, each with a name and a label like “Tough” or “Rude” or “Scary.” One said, “Stay Away.” Above Jaxon’s picture, it said, “Best Friend.”

  “These should all have the correct names, for the most part,” Reese said. “I did them at school during math and science classes.”

  Near the end of the book, Jaxon found another picture of himself that brought back a vivid memory. He had his head back and he was laughing at something. He remembered that day because Reese had immortalized each of them in honor of discovering the transfer station.

  He looked over to see Reese smiling at the picture, her lips slightly parted. She glanced up at him and her expression changed to one of awareness. Time stretched out between them in painstaking increments. What would she do if he leaned over and kissed her? Would her mouth soften and yield to him, or would she draw away?

  “Sorry to interrupt,” came Theena’s voice. “I found one more sketchbook from that time. I thought I remembered seeing it in the bottom drawer of the night stand when I was cleaning the room. It’s only half-filled but . . .” Theena stepped softly across the carpet and set the book on the table.

  Reese placed a hand on the sketchbook, “I was wondering where that was. Thank you.” But the words seemed forced.

  “Goodnight then.”

  Theena withdrew and they continued to thumb through the pictures, the moment between them lost. When they came to the fourth book, Reese turned the pages more slowly, as if dreading what she would find. In this book the children were older, so he understood her reluctance. She’d drawn all of these close to the time they’d both left the Coop.

  Why had she left before she learned of her father’s death? He still needed to ask.

  She paused on a photograph of a pretty woman with dark hair, kind eyes, and full lips. “Cecelia,” she murmured. “My dad’s girlfriend. She was nice to me.”

  The next pages were adults Jaxon didn’t recognize, and Reese shook her head. No names were on the pages. “Maybe just people you saw.” She nodded but kept her eyes glued to the images.

  One the next page was one more sketch of a nameless man, yet he seemed somewhat familiar to Jaxon. He glanced at Reese, who was staring at him. “Do you know him?” she asked.

  “Seems familiar. Maybe a neighbor?”

  She shrugged as she turned the page to show a full-length sketch of an angry, red-faced man in a sports uniform. His heavy body was rigid and his fists clenched at his side.

  “Oh, now him I recognize. He was that guy who came to teach my physical education class those two days.” Jaxon laughed as he tapped the man’s face. “That was after Eagle and I cut out the soles of his shoes. You captured his expression perfectly.”

  “I can’t believe he was zapping you guys with a stunner. He deserved the ruined shoes.” She turned the page again. “This is Dani’s grandmother, and the next ones are of us after swimming at the transfer station. And I believe that’s it.”

  Sure enough, after the drawings she’d identified, there were a few pages with scribbling, as if she’d tried to draw and couldn’t. The remaining pages were blank.

  “Why didn’t you use all the pages?” he asked. The other books had drawings in every bit of available space, including in the margins.

  “It was when I moved here. It was too hard to look back at all the pictures. I started a new book that Theena gave me when I arrived. I thought I was going to stop drawing altogether, but it didn’t work out that way. Sketching turned out to be something I just have to do.” This was said with an air of acceptance he didn’t understand.

  “Good for Amarillo Division,” he said.

  “I guess. So do we have enough names for a good sample?”

  “I think so.” He did a quick count. “Forty-two names I didn’t already have, and fifty altogether. That’s a lot more than I came up with.”

  “Let’s look them up.”

  He hesitated. “Look, if someone from our division put a hit on you, and if something strange is going on with the kids we knew from the Coop, a search might be flagged.”

  “By who? This isn’t some conspiracy we’re talking about. If we find something’s wrong, we’ll report it. We’re the good guys and so are the people we work for.”

  “Yet someone was behind the attack tonight.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to worry you, but one of my sketches helped convict someone high in the Kordell Corp.”

  He whistled. “You pissed off the KC?”

  “Apparently, they supplement their food packaging with smeg running. End result: one of their partners was taken in for enhancement.”

  “Not your fault. You were doing your job.”

  “That’s not how they saw it. They almost killed me in New York, and I spent five months recovering. After that, no one wanted to risk being my partner, and I was supposedly transferred here for my safety. KC goons could have followed me here.”

  By the furrow in her brow and the way her hands clenched into fists on the table, Jaxon believed she was a lot more worried about the KC than her tone indicated. “They’re big enough to convince someone to give them a receptor with your picture. But was there ever any proof they were behind the attack? I mean, they’re dependent on regulations from the CORE. Would they risk getting on their bad side?”

  “There was enough proof that my chief agreed to my transfer. And I’m thinking the smeg and other drugs probably bring in more profit than those tasteless boxes of food
we all have no choice but to consume.”

  Maybe she was right. Jaxon had tried smeg as part of his training, and the sexual rush brought on by the drug was powerful, even addicting if used too long. “Except tonight those men weren’t trying to kill you, so that may indicate another party.”

  “Or maybe they just didn’t get the chance because you were there and they didn’t have orders about you.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Well, unless you have a backdoor into the enforcer database,” she said, “we don’t have a choice but to do a search on these names. Even if we do it from work, it’ll be recorded.”

  “There’s another way. We just have to find it.” Too bad he couldn’t ask Ty in personnel.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the world around him changed and he was falling into an abyss. Ty’s mother weeps as she kisses her son’s cheek. She covers his face with a cloth before the rock slab supporting his body glides into the furnace.

  “Jaxon? Jaxon!” Reese was calling from far away, shaking his shoulder. He blinked and her concerned face came in to focus. “Are you feeling all right? I’ve been calling to you for the past two minutes.”

  “Fine. But I need to make a call.” He stood and strode through the sitting room to the entryway. He dialed Ty’s number and it rang four times before a groggy voice answered without enabling the holo feed.

  “Are you crazy, Jaxon? It’s after one in the morning. What are you doing calling this late? It better be an emergency.”

  The relief at hearing Ty’s voice made Jaxon’s knees go weak. “Sorry, buddy. Listen . . . uh . . . I just want to tell you to be careful, okay? My new partner and I were attacked tonight, so be on your toes.”

  “Hey, you’re the hotshot detective. Why would anyone be interested in me? I’m nobody.” Ty’s laugh sounded nervous as he added, “Why would you even think I’d be a target? Wait. Is this connected to why you were so hot to get the new enforcer’s address?”

  “Kind of. But I’m not saying you’re a target. I’m just warning everyone in case it’s not a limited event. Be aware of everything, that’s all.” He felt lame saying only this much, but telling the guy he’d seen a vision of him dead and that his premonitions generally came true within hours or a few months might set into motion the very thing he was trying to avoid.

  “Oh . . . well, thanks. I think,” Ty said. A pause and then, “So what did Lyssa say?”

  “I haven’t seen her yet. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Jaxon disconnected and sat down on the top stair of the porch. Had he stopped it? Or would his vision about Ty still happen? He waited to see if it came again, but there was nothing.

  “Jaxon, is everything okay?” Reese came out onto the porch.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just needed to call a guy from work.”

  “So I guess that means you’re not experiencing a psychotic break or something?” Humor reflected in her voice.

  He grinned up at her. “I don’t guarantee anything. You might want to keep your gun handy.”

  She laughed and settled next to him on the wooden step, showing him the gun she had strapped to her ankle. “Don’t worry. If you’re too distracted to pull your weapon, I’ve got your back.”

  “You always did.” The easy conversation made him relax. “About the names. I’ll talk to Hammer about doing a search. He knows his way around the database and might have an incognito option.” Thankfully, the mention of Hammer’s name didn’t trigger another gruesome premonition. What a relief.

  “Good idea.”

  They sat there together in silence, the soft chirping of the crickets the only sound in the peaceful calm of the sleeping neighborhood. Moonlight reflected off the shiny silver exterior of the shuttle. The stars and tranquility took him back to the nights he and Reese had stolen outside, ignoring curfew and going to meet the others at the transfer station.

  But it was growing cool, and he had missing people to find and a murder to solve.

  “I’d better take off,” he said.

  “Wait. You mentioned the captain wanted me to draw a picture of the suspects?” She opened a sketchbook he hadn’t realized she was carrying. Inside were two colored sketches of the perps, looking exactly as he remembered them. The man who’d grabbed Reese wore the anguish he’d shown when she’d stabbed him, and the depiction of Jaxon’s attacker after he’d been hit with the brass knuckles looked so real the drawing threatened to leap off the page.

  “Incredible.” He didn’t know how she could have seen such details when her attacker had her pinned. He turned to the previous pages, expecting to see some earlier drawings of the men. The sketch artists he’d worked with usually made several attempts before settling on a single sketch, but no, he found only images of Lyssa and Lyra and the sketches Reese had made at the Fountain. Maybe it was different for Reese because she was both the witness and the artist.

  Slowly he turned back to the suspects. Her drawing was perfect, as if she’d seen from all angles, or at least from his angle.

  The world around him seemed to freeze and split into pieces made up of another time and place. At first he thought it was another premonition, but it was only the real memory of his furious teacher in Reese’s old sketchbook.

  It all came back to him now.

  He stood and went inside, with Reese following him. “Jaxon, what is it?”

  He didn’t respond. She’d already stacked the old sketchbooks, but he grabbed them and thumbed through until he found the drawing of the substitute teacher. Reese had never seen the man—only Jaxon and Eagle had. There were others here too, people he was sure Reese had also never seen. Like Dani’s crotchety old grandmother, who’d made it a point not to invite children over or attend school presentations.

  Jaxon’s gaze left the page, meeting her eyes. Several seconds of silence passed between them, seconds that seemed to leave her raw and exposed. But he had to confront her. “That girl today—she didn’t tell you about the men dumping the body, did she? You saw them in her mind.” He ran his face down the sketch of the teacher. “I remember now. You could always see.”

  She took a step away from him without speaking. “I think you should leave. We’ve both had a long night.”

  But Jaxon’s exhaustion had fled at this discovery. How had he not remembered it all these years? “No wonder you have such a high identification rate—you become the witness.” Perhaps she saw the images even more clearly than the original observer.

  Indecision wrestled on her face as she apparently grappled with confiding to her childhood friend at the risk of leaving herself exposed to a stranger she no longer knew. The obvious struggle killed any inkling that she might be unaware of her talent. It also hurt—though he knew it shouldn’t—that she didn’t trust him.

  “Stop, Jaxon,” she pleaded.

  He shook his head. “I won’t tell anyone. You know I won’t.”

  “I don’t know anything of the kind.”

  He closed the two steps between them and grabbed her arms near her shoulders. Fear screamed at him from her eyes. “You can trust me. I never told anyone then—not even the crew. I won’t say anything now.”

  She didn’t reply but tugged slightly against his hold.

  He saw that she needed something, a reason to trust him, and he knew exactly what to say. Perhaps this was the moment he’d been waiting for all his life, or at least since leaving the Coop. “I’m different too. I saw that we were going to be attacked. It felt . . . urgent. That’s why I tracked you down. I have premonitions, and they always come true. It’s how I knew you were coming. And how I know Eagle will be here soon.”

  She stopped pulling backward, her lips parting and momentarily distracting him with their closeness. “Your mother. You kept going home that week. You said you thought something bad was going to happen.”

  He nodded. “Before then it was ju
st impressions, hunches. Knowing when the kids were coming, or when we needed to watch out for another crew.”

  “Or when Dad was too sauced for me to go home.”

  “Yeah, but with my mom those last couple of days . . . I saw her lying there strangled. I never saw her dead, they never let me, but I did see her, and it was an image I couldn’t get out of my mind. But every time I hurried home, she was fine. Except . . .”

  “That last time.” She broke away from him and grabbed her pencil and the old sketchbook, her hand moving quickly and sure.

  Jaxon looked down and saw his mother’s face appearing. “No,” he reached out to stop her, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t have a choice.” It came out part words, part strangled sob. He let her finish the drawing.

  There she was, his mother, lying on her bed but sharper than he remembered from his long-ago vision, as if the glimpse he’d had all those years ago happened for Reese only now.

  The pencil fell from her hand, and she looked ready to collapse. “Two of us growing up in the Coop,” she said. “Two abilities. And four of us working at the Amarillo City division. That’s a lot more coincidence than I can handle. What about Lyssa and Lyra? Are they different too? What about all the other kids we knew?”

  The soft words hit him like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure how she jumped to the suspicion so quickly, but now that she’d voiced it, finding out if her idea had merit seemed even more important than solving the other mysteries plaguing his cases.

  Besides, there had been that one incident with Lyssa ten years ago, one that might be related.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s time we found out.”

  Chapter 8

  THE NEXT MORNING, Reese stretched lazily in the bed she’d slept in for the decade she’d lived with Theena. It had been her aunt’s bed before that, in some other era, back when the men in their family had to patrol the streets with guns to protect the neighborhood from looters. Reese had long ago outgrown the pink coverlet and the gauzy curtains on the window, but being here after last night’s attack made her feel safe.