“How would you know?”
“I am an anti-empathy defense.”
Reece sighed and turned into the complex.
“Straight ahead,” said Grayson.
Reece side-eyed him. “You know where you’re going?”
“I do. Park in that spot.”
“That says reserved.”
“Yes. Reserved for me.”
“You have areserved spotat this freak show?”
“And an office and a drop box. Hurry up.”
With great reluctance, Reece parked in the reserved spot and climbed out of the car after Grayson. But as he looked up the side of the high-rise, he paused. “Those men are washing the windows,” he said, pointing up.
“Windows don’t generally wash themselves.”
“They must be twenty stories up.”
“Building’s twenty-two stories, so that’s about right.” Grayson had stopped on the sidewalk. “You forget how to walk?”
Reece gestured at the window washers high above their heads. “Where are the nets?”
“Nets?”
“The safety nets! In case they fall.”
“They’ve all got suspension systems,” Grayson pointed out. “There’re no laws mandating nets too.”
Reece folded his arms. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“You know how you can tell I’m a specialist? Because I’m not even gonna try to make you let this go,” Grayson said. “You can bring it up with management. Assuming we get to see them and don’t expire on this sidewalk waiting on you to move your little feet.”
“Iwillbring it up,” Reece said. “And my feet aren’tlittle.”
Inside, the building’s lobby was cavernous, everything bright white or made of glass. There were three flat-screen TVs, all tuned to the news, and modern furniture in the same white as the walls and floors. A large framed poster by one TV proclaimed,We Support SB 1437: Protect American Minds, while a coffee table offered several magazines for visitors, including AMI’s monthly publication.
Four people were waiting on the sofas, all eight eyes on Reece. Then the whispers began.
“I am not welcome here,” he muttered.
“You’re really not,” Grayson agreed, because of course he’d somehow been able to overhear that. “Don’t wander off this time.”
Oh right, because Reece wanted to stick close totheDead Man. “So, Mr. Reserved Parking Spot, I assume you still know where to go?”
“I do. Just waiting to wrap up the confrontation with security.”
“The what?”
But right on cue, a security guard was rushing at them, a middle-aged man with outrage on his face and his finger pointed at Reece. “You can’t be in here.”
Reece set his jaw. Definitely the last place an empath belonged. “Yes, I can. Legally—”
