MindWar

by Darrell Bain

  "Mom...” Amber blushed for the first time. A memory popped into her mind of how much she liked it when Jimmy's arms were around her and how good it felt to have his hands pressed against her back. She had thought the last time he kissed her that it would probably feel even better if his hands were touching her front.

  Bailey, with his history of often painful shyness, wanted to change the subject for now after he saw the color suffuse Amber's face. The last thing young people wanted was to be embarrassed. It was best to talk about something else or leave it with Pat perhaps. He stood up. “This sounds like it's getting into a mother-daughter thing. Why don't you two talk while I go see if Wanda's home?"

  Amber gave him a grateful look. Sometimes she thought her stepfather had an enhanced perceptive sense of his own.

  * * * *

  Bailey tried both of Wanda's phone numbers and got an “Out of service” recording for each of them. That's strange, he thought. She's never moved without giving me her new address or number before. He glanced at his watch and decided to call her employer on the off chance she was still at work.

  "Sanford Labs, Research. Can I help you?"

  My word, Bailey thought, A real person, first time out of the chute. “Yes, may I speak to Wanda Greenleigh if she's still there?"

  "Wanda—she's not here anymore."

  "Well, would you have any way I could contact her? It's very important."

  There was a long silence at the other end, then a reply. “Maybe a psychic could contact her. No one else can, that's for sure."

  A warning bell began sounding in Bailey's mind. “What do you mean?"

  "Wanda was killed in her own home by a burglar a month ago. Poor girl; she was so nice, too. Everyone loved her."

  "Did they ever catch her killer?” Bailey asked, his heart beginning to feel like a lump of lead in his chest.

  "No, not that I've heard. I'm very sorry. Was she a friend?"

  "Thank you. Yes, she was a very good friend."

  Bailey hung up and simply sat in his office chair for a long time. Was it possible that a burglary wasn't the reason she had been murdered? It didn't seem conceivable, but Bailey didn't much believe in coincidence. Not for something like this. Larkin, stirring the pot again. Amber, sensing that Larkin was perhaps in contact with Casey again. Larkin talking to Shaeffer, the principal, as Casey had done four or five years ago. And now Wanda murdered. That was too much of a stretch. On impulse, he got up and unlocked his file cabinet where he stored important documents. The implicating evidence Wanda had given him about Casey was in the bottom drawer, far to the back and laying flat behind the upright files, out of sight. He searched the drawer and the cabinet and the drawer again before he could make himself believe the big sealed envelope was gone.

  Frantic now, he began going through his password protected computer files. Again, the information on Casey was missing, gone without a trace. By this time, Bailey's heart was beating rapidly as the implication of the stolen documents and files swept over him. Someone had broken into their home, violating their sanctity with brazen impunity, and one of his best and oldest friends had been murdered. Probably by the same person, he thought desolately, and I'm certainly responsible for her death.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Pat saw the grim look on Bailey's face when he returned to the living room.

  Bailey looked around. “Is Amber still here?"

  "She's gone over to Jimmy's house for a while to chat with Jeanie. Those kids are like a hive of bees; they're never out of contact for long. What is it, hon?"

  "Well, we can talk to Amber later. I just learned that Wanda was murdered recently, supposedly by a burglar."

  "Oh, Bailey. I'm sorry. I never knew her, but I know you were close."

  She reflected a moment. “Why do you say supposedly?"

  Bailey lowered his gaze and thought about having another drink. He saw that Pat had already started on her second. He held up a finger asking her to wait and headed for the bar. A moment later he was back, carrying a glass of bourbon, but, at the moment, he was too preoccupied to think about the ice or water. He sat down by Pat and finally responded to her last comment.

  "There are too many coincidences, Pat. Is it five yet?” Bailey usually took off his watch when he got home.

  Pat glanced at hers. “Not yet. Why?"

  "I want to see if Casey is still at the Little Rock FBI office.” He thumbed through the address book where he had written the number from Casey's card and dialed. Pat listened intensely as he held the phone to his ear after asking to speak to Casey. When he replaced the phone she knew something was awry.

  "I suspected as much. Casey is no longer with the FBI, and, brace yourself, we've been robbed sometime during the last year."

  "What!"

  Bailey nodded. “Yes, robbed. Someone broke into the house while we were all gone. It was probably our friend Casey, or someone he knows, who slipped in here and stole the documents that Wanda sent me. That person also wiped all the files concerning Casey and his little perverted sideline off my computer."

  "My God, Bailey—if he could do that without us knowing, he could have killed us! Right in our own home! Can't we do something about it?"

  Bailey took her hand. “Sweetheart, I don't think he wants us dead, or he would already have seen to it. What I'm afraid of is that he must be planning something bad for the kids."

  "Amber!” Pat stood up and started to reach for the phone, but Bailey still had hold of her hand. She looked down at him. “I want to tell her to come home. Right now.” Her voice was trembling with fear; she was truly afraid for the first time in years.

  "Pat, I think she's fine for now. No one is going to do anything in broad daylight. She'll be home for supper in a half hour anyway. What we need to do is figure out our next move."

  Pat let Bailey pull her back down beside him. He put his arm around her and kissed her gently without a hint of amorous intent. She accepted the comforting attention and huddled against him, lost for the moment in the complex emotions of the protective parental instinct that was demanding immediate action, but being restrained by the need to be comforted herself. When she sat back upright, she sighed and kissed Bailey again, managing a grateful smile afterward.

  "Bailey, you're such a good man. I don't know what Amber and I would have done if you hadn't come along."

  "You're a good person, too, sweetheart. I love you, and I don't think I could love Amber any more if she were my own daughter. Be that as it may, we still have to come up with a plan of some kind."

  "You're sure this couldn't just be coincidence? Just Casey wanting to get clear of incriminating evidence?” Pat asked, not really thinking it could be true but wanting it to be just the same.

  "I might be wrong,” Bailey said, “but when have you known Amber to be mistaken about anything she declares so positively?"

  Pat nodded agreement. Amber knew about things like that, and she was getting better at it all the time. Pat felt a tender wave of love for Amber sweep over her, but, immediately, fear for her safety replaced it. She felt tears forming and tried desperately to hold them back. One escaped anyway and trickled down her face.

  * * * *

  Amber's PPC was in her lap, cradled in its unfolded keypad. Jimmy sat beside her with his own in the same position so each could see Jeannie's conversational rejoinders as they talked. Their fingers roved over the keys with the speed and dexterity a court reporter would envy, but the language they used bore only a passing resemblance to English as it was taught in school. It was saturated with abbreviations, euphemisms, slang, anagrams, and phrases designed purposely to be read one way by them but interpreted entirely different should a parent or other adult try to judge the decency of their messaging, so much so that no one but the current generation of near teens and students in high school could make sense of it.

  Amber was acutely aware of Jimmy's thigh against her own and that their shoulders were touching as they talked with Jeannine. Every few mome
nts, they paused, glanced toward the kitchen to be sure Mrs. Gomez wasn't watching, looked at each other, and kissed briefly. It was like a game, even though Amber and Jimmy both knew Mrs. Gomez was aware that they were probably stealing a kiss or two while she was busy preparing dinner. Sometimes Amber's fingers stayed busy at the keyboard even as her lips were pressed against Jimmy's. She had just mentioned her mother's remark about an implant to Jeannie, causing Jimmy to blush even though his perceptive sense had already picked up a hint of it from her.

  "No lie! Mom would kill me if I even suggested something like that!” Jeannine responded in their abbreviated version of regular text. “Your mom and Bailey are colder than cool. When are you going to get it?"

  "I told her we were too young."

  "Bertie is our age, and she's already doing it. And Kindra and her gang are going to lipstick fests already."

  "They're not us,” Jimmy typed, but he couldn't stop his imagination or his perception from working. He knew Amber couldn't either.

  "We probably will, but not yet,” Amber wrote without glancing at Jimmy.

  "Where am I going to be? You two are the only ones I really like. Gordon can't ... whatever it is we do."

  Amber and Jimmy knew what she meant. Increasingly, their minds were taking paths that the other kids in the group seemed unaware of.

  "I guess I should ask Bailey about us."

  "What if he doesn't like it?"

  "He's not like that. Neither is Mom."

  Melissa Gomez came into the living room. “Amber, dinner is about ready, and Joe will be home in a few minutes. He's in town for a few days. Would you like to eat with us?"

  "No, thank you, Mrs. Gomez. Mom and Bailey are ‘specting me in a jiffer. In fact, I better moodle ‘fore I'm late."

  Melissa blinked then smiled at the youngsters as she correctly interpreted the slang.

  Amber folded up the keyboard and closed the cover over her phone.

  "'S'later,” Jimmy said. “I gotta go wash up.” He winked and Amber winked back at him in lieu of another kiss. She stood up and walked back home, slowing after she left the front entrance of Jimmy's house to give herself a moment or two to think by herself.

  Her remark about “probably doing it” had been spontaneous, but with a moment or two alone to reflect, she recognized the truth. Unless something drastic happened to prevent it, she knew that she and Jimmy would become intimate, even though she still wasn't in a great hurry. She kept in mind the talks where she and Mom had discussed the matter of sex and growing up. Her mother had told her that children were maturing physically much earlier than in the “olden days” but that it took good parents to guide their mental advancement. Amber thought it was probably true, even though it didn't apply so much in the case of the group, where they could perceive so many attitudes and see some of the resulting actions. Although, now that she thought about it, some of the kids appeared to be lacking guidance or had become so confident in their abilities that they didn't think they needed it.

  Before going inside, she stopped a moment at the door, mulling over their last remarks again. Amber could practically feel the widening difference between herself, Jimmy, and Jeannie lately. They could just about read each others’ minds! It was becoming scary at times. Maybe Bailey could do some tests or something and find out. In the meantime, the three of them had agreed to keep their differences secret, even letting Bailey and her mom know only that they were beginning to feel a little alienated from others of the group, especially from the normal kids. They had decided not to try to define their increased talent, not yet. It wasn't hurting anything.

  Amber would have known something was wrong yet again, even if Pat hadn't met her halfway between the door and the living room couch and hugged her. She could just look at her mother and know she was afraid for her and wanted to protect her. A glance past Pat's shoulder told her Bailey felt the same.

  Bailey watched the embrace and noted that Amber's head peered at him past her mother's face. She was only an inch or so shorter than her mother now. He had already decided she was going to be one of the girls who was fully mature physically at fifteen, and he hoped he and Pat could keep helping her with the transition, not only physically, but mentally. So far, he thought his stepdaughter was doing wonderfully well.

  Amber perceived Bailey's approval of her and grinned at him when Pat released her.

  "Hi Lumpkin. How's Jimmy?"

  "He's growing, just like me,” she replied. “I don't smell anything cooking."

  "We decided to send out for pizza,” Pat said. “Unless you object, that is."

  "I'll just force myself to eat it,” she said, laughing. “Have you ordered yet?"

  "No, Bailey and I wanted to talk to you first if you can wait a bit."

  "Sure. “It's about Larkin and Casey again, huh?"

  Pat was too upset to correct her for not using a title with the names. “Yes, but let Bailey tell you. I might start crying."

  Amber seated herself between them and listened solemnly as Bailey described what was happening. She could perceive his concern for her and for her mother along with his love for both of them.

  When he had finished, Amber asked, “What can I do to help?"

  Bailey glanced at her sitting between them, looking so fresh and so young in the shorts and pullover she had changed into after school, marveling that she was so young and was still mature enough to ask how she could help rather than avoid the situation or depend on them to solve everything.

  Pat looked to Bailey. He had already been thinking about it and had an answer ready. He took off his glasses so that Amber could observe without hindrance how serious he was.

  "Lumpkin, I think the most important thing you can do is keep your eyes open for any strange men or women you see hanging around the school or the movies or the skating rink and mall—well, you get the idea, I know. The usual hangouts. Pass this on to the other kids, especially Jimmy and Jeannie."

  Amber nodded and Bailey continued. “If you or anyone else does spot strangers showing an interest in you, try to perceive what they're up to. If one of the other kids sees them first, you might get them to notify any of you three real quick so maybe one of you can get a take on them since you're better at it. You know what I mean?"

  "Yes, sir,” Amber said, all but admitting that Bailey knew the three of them were becoming more adept—and different—than others in the group. “Are they really dangerous? Would they hurt us, like that Casey wanted to?"

  "Baby, I'm not sure. I suspect that if the government or some other organizations start to believe Mrs. Larkin's tales, they'll try to come up with a pretext to take you into custody.” He hadn't intended to mention that some groups, like drug cartels or security agents for instance, probably wouldn't bother with a pretext but simply grab them. He smiled mirthlessly as he saw that Amber caught it immediately. He should have known better than to try sugarcoating the threat. Amber grinned at him as she perceived that rueful admission to himself, too.

  "I'll tell the kids to be careful,” Amber said. Then, without disclosing how rapidly she, Jimmy, and Jeannie were developing broader powers than the others, she told Bailey how the three were beginning to feel “different” from the others. After that, she used her perceptive sense to steer the conversation in another direction despite the guilty feeling she felt in her stomach for doing it to Bailey and her mother. It would have made her feel dishonest had she not intended to talk to them about the three later, after she had more of a handle on just what they were becoming. She didn't intend to delay it long; she wanted to know why, and Bailey could probably help. Right now, she would rather find out what else Bailey had planned to protect them.

  As if perceptive himself, Bailey said “One more thing. I'm going to buy a handgun and take the concealed weapons course so I can carry it legally. Pat, honey, I won't insist, but I'd feel a lot better if you'd do the same. Amber is too young for a permit, but she can go to a firing range as soon as she turns thirteen, which is
less than two weeks from now.” He smiled at both of them, this time truly amused. “I guess you can have a Turnteen Party if you want to, Lumpkin. If you do, we better start planning."

  "Oh mercy, Bailey, Amber and I have already talked about that and already have it mostly planned. I was intending to get us all together and see what our prospective new teen wanted for a present then all this came up."

  "No time like the present, but let's order our pizza first."

  "Go ahead, baby while Bailey and I hash out this gun thing."

  Amber went, already knowing what the decision would be. Mom would talk about it, but in her mind, she had already agreed. She would go through the course with Bailey and let her go to the range with them! A sudden atavistic thrill shot through her body as she thought about it, making her stutter as she gave the operator their pizza order. Now she knew what she wanted for her Turnteen Party. A gun for herself, even if she couldn't legally carry it out of the house on her own.

  She put the phone back in its cradle, wondering if Mom and Bailey knew the difference between a Turnteen Party and TurnOteen party. The other one was the kind where some privacy could be anticipated and where the girls invited and the guest of honor would have a chance to try his or her first oral sex. Or, for some girls, not the first. She knew most parents would be horrified if they realized what went on, but teens were fairly blasé about the idea. Some kids even congregated in what they called a “LSF,” the acronym for Lipstick Fest, ostensibly a gathering to exchange, compare and discuss various lip colors, but, in reality, a game where the girls “marked” the guys present with a particular brand of lipstick. Whatever parents thought, it beat getting pregnant for sure, even though she didn't think she was ready for that step yet, much less sex.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The pizza had soaked up some of the bourbon, but a liter of wine split between them had Bailey and Pat in a very amorous mood by the time they retired.