Huang’s gaze went past Grayson to Reece with still no sign of unease. “Mr. Empath. Meeting any friend of Agent Grayson is of course also a pleasure.”
“You sure he works for Stone?” Reece said to Grayson. “That might have been polite.”
Huang shrugged. “It’s a job. I’m looking for a new one.”
“I like that decision.” Reece pointed at Huang’s hand, wrapped around a green bottle of sparkling water. “And this decision, especially for a driver. I hope no one else in here is planning to get behind the wheel sooner thanone hour after each drink,” he said, raising his voice enough to carry to the whole bar.
Huang’s brows drew together. Grayson leaned against the bar counter. “Where did you take Mr. Stone and the senator last night?”
The man’s face barely twitched. He must have already guessed what Grayson had come to talk to him about. “Where have you heard I took them?”
“To Mr. Stone’s favorite restaurant. I’m a little sketchy on what came next.”
Huang spread his hands. “Then I’m afraid I am too.”
Grayson waited.
And waited.
The crowd around them seemed to grow very loud. Reece shifted on his feet. The bar giving him the evil eyes he could handle. The unspoken conversation happening between Grayson and Huang—that was a language he didn’t speak. He wasn’t used to not seeing straight through people, and it did bother him more than he wanted to admit.
The impasse stretched out uncomfortably long. Finally, Grayson pushed off the bar and said, in a relaxed drawl, “I’ll come back without the empath.”
“McFeely’s!”
Reece jumped at Huang’s outburst.
The color had drained from the man’s face. “McFeely’s,” Huang said again. “I took them to McFeely’s and then I went home. I didn’t stay, and I didn’t pick them up, and I don’t know what happened to Senator Hathaway and I don’t know anything else, Iswear.”
None of Huang’s words were lies. “Why’s he so scared?” Reece demanded from Grayson.
“You’ve been mighty helpful, Mr. Huang.” Grayson turned away.
“What’s McFeely’s—” Reece threw up his hands as Grayson left without an explanation or a goodbye. He turned to Huang. “Thank—never mind,” he said, since Huang wasn’t listening anyway, just staring at his bottle like a man who’d barely escaped with his life.
Reece chased after Grayson and back out of the bar.
“John and Cora are a lovely couple. I think anyone who supports that awful bill has never met an empath themselves. You know how people just default to xenophobia. More coffee?”
Officer Josh Taylor did know and did want more coffee. He nodded at Ms. Dorothy Kirby, the seventy-five-year-old retiree who lived in the elegant bungalow next door to Cora Falcon and John Camden on their tree-lined street in Mount Baker. “Yes, please.”
She refilled his cup from her silver French press. Sometimes Detective St. James sent him into total shitholes. Today, Ms. Kirby’s freshly ground coffee and quaint sunroom overlooking her backyard were a nice respite from blood-soaked yachts and anti-empathy conspiracists foaming at the mouth. “Did you see either of them yesterday?”
Ms. Kirby smiled. “Cora came by for a moment to drop off lentil soup for dinner; that angel knows how these cold snaps get into my bones. She was expecting John any minute.” Ms. Kirby shook her head. “I was so looking forward to their wedding. But who can blame them for eloping? Next thing you know, someone will claim empaths mind-control their spouses and make it illegal to marry one.”
Taylor wouldn’t put it past the current Senate. There were rumors at the station that politicians were already fighting over who’d be the next to champion Hathaway’s bill. “Did you hear them leave last night?”
She shook her head. “But I never hear their hybrids.” She waved a finger. “That loud van, now, that I did hear.”
Taylor sat up straighter. “Van?”
“Yes. It must have been around ten last night. What it was doing in this neighborhood that late, I’m sure I don’t know. I peeked out the curtains when I heard the racket and saw it idling right in front of Cora and John’s home.”
“What kind of van?”
“Delivery van, not minivan. One of those European-looking things.”
She could be describing the Ford Transit; they could have her come to the station and pick it out from pictures. “Did you see anyone get in or out of the van?”
