by Mary Stone
“Federal law enforcement?” Sandra echoed. To his relief, her tone was free of doubt or suspicion.
“Yes.”
“Which agency?”
“Does it matter? Do the people we work for have a preference? Would they be all right with starting a fight with, say, the ATF as opposed to Homeland Security? Or vice versa?”
“No.” She tapped her lower lip with a carefully manicured finger. “You were right, Robert. I’m enough of an adult to admit that. Well-connected or not, none of us want to pique the interest of a federal law enforcement agency. Homeland, ATF, FBI, it doesn’t matter which. We don’t want to be caught, and poking the bear seems like a sure-fire way to get caught.”
“I appreciate your understanding, Evans.” Even as he forced the agreeable look to his face, he wanted to shout at her to get the hell out of his building.
“Do you suppose you could give me an overview of how you came across this man? Of what events led up to these unique abilities of his?”
With a sigh, Robert leaned back in his chair and brushed a hand through his hair. Fortunately, he had become a good liar.
“He was about thirteen when it happened,” Robert started. “It was an accident on a merry-go-round. You’re familiar with how much teenage boys like to do stupid shit, aren’t you?”
The corner of her mouth turned up in what would be known as amusement for most human beings, but Ladwig knew this woman wasn’t amused. She nodded, and he rushed to go on.
“Based on how he told it, he tried to jump onto the merry-go-round after one of his friends pushed it to get it to spin as fast as he could. He said he must have tripped, because he hit the back of his head on one of the metal handles. His friend thought he was dead, but after a three-month long coma, he woke up with the abnormalities you already know about.”
“Do you think you could send me a synopsis of his treatment?” she asked, tapping a slender finger against her cheek.
“Sure. But that’s all I’m sending you.”
He wanted her to leave, and once she was gone, he intended to update the go-bag he had thrown together a year earlier. More money. Not just the financial transfers, but more cash. And a fucking shotgun.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile.
And that look was all he needed to confirm his suspicion.
If she suspected he was lying, she would have simply picked up her phone and ordered his death. If he was lucky, his death would be mercifully quick. If he wasn’t lucky—and Robert was rarely lucky—she would knock him out, have one of her goons load him into a van, and drive him out to wherever in the hell she kept her victims.
He wondered how many men and women had seen that same smile in the final seconds before they died.
14
Once the dinner rush died down, The Lift’s flow of business returned to its usual weekday tedium. Autumn had come in at the last minute to help the servers and the bartender after one of the women scheduled had to take her nephew to the doctor.
According to Autumn’s Aunt Leah, the poor woman worked two jobs, attended college classes at VCU, and babysat her nephew while her sister worked the night shift.
“The struggle is real,” Leah had told her.
And if anyone would know, Autumn figured it would be Leah. From Olympic athlete to small business owner, Leah had worked her ass off for everything she had. And in an economy that was stagnant, Leah’s everything wasn’t much.
With a sip from her glass of soda, Autumn forced herself to focus on the short essay she had started to grade. During the summer months, she earned her graduate stipend by teaching two different sections of Abnormal Psychology.
This week’s assignment had been straightforward enough, but she was still taken aback by the lack of effort put forth by some students.
To those who weren’t psychology majors or minors, Abnormal Psych was like a novelty. They could “ooh” and “ahh” at all the mental health maladies listed in their manual, and they could use the fleeting knowledge to diagnose their crazy uncle. And when the time came to grade papers—even short article summaries—she could tell who those students were.
“Damn it,” she muttered to herself.
She had spaced off again, had retreated to her private headspace to avoid the half-assed attempt to summarize an academic journal article about schizophrenia. If she was at home, she suspected she would have passed out with her face on the keyboard by now.
A flicker of movement caught her eye as the double doors swung open to admit a new patron. Pushing the slim laptop closed, she rose to her feet to greet the woman. The closing bartender was lounging in a booth for his lunch break, and as soon as he returned, Autumn would be clear to go home to suffer through the remainder of the papers.
As her gaze settled on the familiar set of vivid blue eyes, she expected to see either Bree or Noah on the newcomer’s heels. Autumn slid the computer into her messenger bag, but when she looked back up, the dark-haired woman was still alone. She made no effort to conceal the puzzlement from her face.
“Hey, Winter. Is it just you?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Winter nodded and hopped up to sit on a stool at the edge of the horseshoe-shaped bar.
“Are Bree and Noah busy chasing down UFOs tonight or something?” Eyebrow arched, Autumn took another drink of her soda.
“Some kind of lake monster, I think,” Winter replied without missing a beat. “I’m not sure. They didn’t tell me much about it.”
“That explains it.” Autumn nodded as she leaned against the counter. She didn’t have to reach out to shake Winter’s hand to know that something weighed on her mind. “You want a shot? On the house.”
“It’s been a long week.” Winter’s eyes skimmed the choices behind Autumn’s shoulder. “Yeah, a shot sounds just about perfect right now.”
“I hear that. Whiskey all right?” As she produced a couple shot glasses, she offered Winter a questioning glance.
“You read my mind.”
The overhead lights glinted off the polished glass as she and Winter tapped the shots together with a merry clink. Quality booze or not, Autumn still grimaced at the potent flavor. Her stomach had been calm for the past twenty-four hours, and she hoped she wasn’t pressing her luck by drinking straight whiskey.
To her chagrin, the doctor she’d seen the day before had referred her to a specialist. He agreed that stress was the most likely cause, but based on the persistence and the sheer level of pain, he wanted to err on the side of caution. Autumn couldn’t find it within herself to argue, but she’d scheduled the appointment two months out in hopes that the pain would disappear and she would be spared from another office visit.
“So,” she started, pulling herself back to the present. “Do you want anything to drink?” Still no nausea or stabbing pain. Well, that was good, wasn’t it?
“If I say I want a beer, it looks like there are about six hundred possibilities.” Winter’s blue eyes were fixed on the line of taps as she scooted forward in her seat. Her gaze flicked back over to Autumn, and she offered a hapless shrug. “Any recommendations?”
“I hate when people ask me that,” she muttered. “I always recommend my personal favorite, but I’m starting to think I ought to just respond to everyone with ‘Bud Lite’ or something standard like that.”
“Boring.” Wrinkling her nose, Winter shook her head.
“I know, right? But really, I can tell you what the majority of normal human beings order, or I can tell you what I usually drink. I’ll let you decide.”
“Red pill or blue pill.” A faint smile crept onto Winter’s face. “Sorry. I watched all those movies with my grandpa when I was a sophomore in high school. He doesn’t seem like a sci-fi kind of guy, but he loves some Star Trek and Matrix. He was Captain Picard for Halloween one year, but I don’t think any of the kids who showed up at our door knew who the hell he was.”
“Well, if he was here, or if I was there, he’d be in good company.” Autumn chuc
kled, poking herself in the chest for emphasis. “I’ve been in college for eight years, so I guess it’s not a huge surprise that I’m a giant nerd.”
“You know, I was so damn focused on a career while I was in school that I never really ventured into too much of that stuff. It always seemed like it was cool, but I guess I never really sat down to consider it.”
“So, you focused on school during school? That’s arguably even nerdier.” Shrugging, Autumn retrieved a pint glass.
With a half-laugh, half-snort, Winter nodded. “Apparently, if I wanted to be cool, I needed to be playing Halo and drinking beer.”
“I did that in high school. It was Halo 3 by then, though.”
“I don’t suppose you happen to be a fan of Code Red Mountain Dew?” The grin that crept to Winter’s face insisted there was more to the question than Autumn knew, but she returned the expression.
“I feel like I’m playing into an inside joke here, but yeah, that stuff is great.”
“No, you’re not.” Winter snickered. “It’s just a fun fact I found out about an old friend today. And believe me, if you knew the guy, you would not have guessed.”
“Fair enough. All right, Neo. Red pill or blue pill?”
“Red. Definitely red. Let’s see what this beer everyone hates is all about.”
“According to Noah, it tastes like it was brewed in a dirty sock. At least that’s what he said when he tried it for the first time. But if you were wondering, it’s called Black Star IPA. They sell it in cans at some liquor stores.” Dropping a coaster atop the polished wooden bar, Autumn set down the glass and pushed it to Winter.
Brushing a piece of jet-black hair from her eyes, she gingerly picked up the beer and took a tentative drink. Rather than fix Autumn with a sour look, Winter flashed a thumbs-up.
“Really?” Autumn’s response was more reflexive than doubtful.
Winter took another, longer drink. “Yeah, I like it. It’s like a punch in the mouth, but in a good way. I mean, if I was sleepy and I was at the bar with my friends, I could get one of these, and I feel like it’d wake me up and give me a buzz.”
“It’s nine-percent alcohol,” Autumn advised.
“Even better.” For emphasis, Winter took a deep drink. By the time she set the glass down, almost half the dark beer was gone.
“Damn, girl.” Autumn laughed. “You looking to get blitzed tonight or something?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Winter muttered. The edginess Autumn had spotted upon her arrival was back, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had motivated her to venture out to a bar by herself.
She bit back the curiosity and gestured over to the other bartender as he stepped out of his shadowy booth and stretched. “If you can hold that thought for a couple minutes, that’ll give Eli over there plenty of time to go have a smoke before he comes back in here to take over for me. Then we can grab a couple drinks and decide how plastered we want to get.”
With a quiet chuckle, the dark-haired woman nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Autumn offered her a wide grin and stuck out her hand.
Some of Winter’s wariness had worn away, but the brief physical contact came with an onslaught of different emotions. Of contentment, frustration, regret, and trepidation. Winter’s solo trip out to The Lift had not been made because she wanted to drink away her problems.
To Autumn’s surprise, the driving force was to speak to her. There was no malice to be found, but the lack of anger only made Autumn more curious.
They made casual conversation while she waited for Eli. She learned where Winter was from as well as the names of her grandparents, and in exchange, she offered up the names of her adopted parents. Before their conversation could venture too near their respective families, Autumn switched the topic.
There was a flicker of relief in Winter’s eyes at the abrupt change.
Though Autumn could admit to a polite curiosity about Winter’s reluctance to discuss her family, she was the last person who would dig into such a sensitive subject. Outside the psychiatric couch, at least. And as far as Autumn was concerned, the further away they stayed from talking about their families, the better.
Once Eli made his way back behind the bar, Autumn filled a pitcher with the dark IPA and retrieved a pair of chilled pint glasses. Shouldering her messenger bag, she nodded in the direction of the corner booth where Bree and Noah usually sat.
“I’ll take those glasses,” Winter offered.
“And I won’t argue with you.”
As Winter reached out to accept the cold glasses, her index finger brushed against the back of Autumn’s hand. The frustration had abated, and as best as she could tell, the anxiety had been replaced with a twinge of optimism.
Autumn couldn’t help the smile that crept to her lips at the simple act of friendship.
By the time the conversation shifted to their college careers, Autumn’s head felt lighter, and she noted that Winter had become more talkative.
“I went to SUNY,” Winter started as she poured some more beer into her glass. “In Albany. It was pretty good, at least aside from the dude who robbed a bunch of students at gunpoint.”
“Wait, what?” Autumn chortled. “Holy shit, really? I applied to grad school there, and they turned me down.”
“Yeah, it was a big deal. Some rich jackass, probably just doing it for kicks or to support his coke habit. Who the hell knows. I was the one who found his last victim. I thought she was dead for a second, but she pulled through. The news made it sound like I was some kind of superhero, but really, it was just a lucky hunch.”
“Well, you are a federal agent, so my guess is there was some skill involved there too.” Grinning, Autumn held up her glass.
“Thanks.” Winter tapped their glasses together. “What about you? What exactly are you going to do when you’re a forensic psychologist?”
“It’s not quite what they make it look like in Criminal Minds.” She lifted both shoulders. “No private planes, no badge and gun, no field work.”
“Will you be doing any profiling? Or, I guess, is that what you want to do? Because if it is, you know, you’ve got a few FBI friends now.” With an exaggerated wink, Winter sipped her drink.
“I’ll admit, it’s pretty cool to have friends like that. I had no idea that The Lift would be the place to meet Feds, but here we are. To answer your question, though, no. That’s not the plan. It’ll probably sound weird, especially since you’re in law enforcement, but the reason I went into this field is that I think there are a lot of people who’ve been branded ‘criminals’ who could just use some help.”
She waited for a scoff or a snort, but Winter just looked at her solemnly. “At times, I’m sure you’re right.”
“It’s a little more scientific and a lot more treatment oriented than profiling. I mean, it’s one thing to pin a list of attributes to an offender in the interest of understanding their motive, but it’s another thing entirely to understand that motive and find a way to prevent it from happening in the future, you know? It’s being proactive versus being reactive.”
Tapping an index finger against her glass, Winter paused, her blue eyes thoughtful. “That’s admirable. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll be really good at it. You’re down to earth, and I don’t think that’s a quality that a lot of shrinks have.”
“I think you’ve been associating with the wrong shrinks if that’s been your impression.” Autumn laughed into her glass as she polished off the remaining beer.
When Winter joined in her mirth, Autumn felt her smile widen. In her entire life, she had never been able to call more than two people a friend at any given time. Now, with the addition of Winter Black, she had four friends.
15
As Beth dropped down to sit across from her granddaughter, she stretched her legs and sighed. Winter had been back at the house for almost a week, and Beth could tell she had already grown restless.
At the disturbance, Winter
’s vivid blue eyes snapped up from her smartphone.
“What’s on your mind, honey? And don’t even say nothing. I know that look.” Beth made sure her knowing glance was over the top, and Winter’s slight smile told her she had been successful.
The past six days had been markedly different from the three and a half months Winter had spent with them after Douglas Kilroy was shot. Winter and Jack had competed with one another for the higher score in a silly mobile game about slicing fruit, and every night, they all ate popcorn and sat together in the living room to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation.
Though Winter had only spent a few days in Richmond, she soon revealed that she had made a new friend, and that the new friend was not another federal agent. Beth had been thrilled at the news, but she knew better than to show Winter the full extent of her joy.
“Do you think it’s weird that I want to go back to work?” Winter’s gaze had returned to the cup of coffee beside her phone.
“It’s not weird,” Beth started. “It’s not like you work in a call center or something. Then, I think it’d be weird. But you know how important the work you do is. It’s more than just work.”
The smile remained as Winter nodded her understanding. “And no offense, but I think I’m getting stir-crazy. Max, my boss, told me that I could come back whenever I was ready, but that I didn’t have to rush into it. It’s hard to explain, but while we were working on that investigation when I was there, it just felt like everything made sense. Like I was doing something right by being there. It’s been a couple weeks since we ran out of leads, but I think maybe I ought to go back anyway. Even if we aren’t looking for Justin.”
“It makes sense to me.” Beth returned Winter’s faint smile with a grin. “Go ahead, sweetie. Your grandfather is doing much better. The only reason he isn’t awake and out here with us is because he stayed up too late last night watching Jean-Luc Picard and the Enterprise.”
“Okay,” Winter chuckled. “Well, maybe this will sound weird then. Watching that show has been like a weird source of inspiration. They’re just a bunch of good people out helping others around the galaxy, and no matter what, they always do the right thing.”