“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you out of a lab coat.” A light but cold rain fell on Jamey’s hair and neck as she got out of the car, opening the backseat door and holding out a hand for Aisha’s bag. “Did you coordinate this outfit with the bisexual flag on purpose?”
Aisha passed the bag to Jamey to put on the seat. “That depends.”
“On?”
“Who’s asking and if she’s cute.”
Jamey grinned. They got in the front and she started heading back to the interstate. “What’s the emergency that’s got you hopping a flight to Ottawa, anyway?” she asked, as she waited at a stop sign for a couple to push their stroller through the crosswalk.
“Stone Solutions has a couple Canadian offices. I’m going to dig into some things,” Aisha said. “It’s really good to see you, by the way. You were way too close to the end of the road last time we talked. But you look so great now.” She winced. “In a friend way, not a hitting-on-you way—not that I’m saying you don’t look good enough to hit on,” she hurriedly added. “I just—yeah.” She winced again. “Have I mentioned most of my coworkers are corpses and I’m not very good with the living?”
Jamey snorted. “My brother can’t keep his mouth shut for anything; I’m immune to social awkwardness at this point.” She glanced at Aisha out of the corner of her eye. “You didn’t say what you’re digging into.”
Aisha’s mood instantly sobered. “Someone bashed a French Canadian empath over the head and left her body posed in a Vermont park.”
Jamey’s eyes widened.
“Grayson goes any time a crime involves empaths, doesn’t trust anyone else to handle it,” Aisha added. “They always assume empaths are the villains, you know? But Grayson knows it’s more complicated than that.”
The rain was still dotting the windshield; if the temperature dropped another degree or two, they’d get snow. Jamey turned the wipers on. “Cora Falcon was responsible for a lot of deaths.”
“CorruptedCora Falcon was responsible,” Aisha said. “You and I both know that if Cedrick Stone and his cronies had just left her and her fiancé alone, they’d be wedding planning and caring for veterans, not locked away in British Columbia and six feet under, respectively.”
If Stone would have just left empaths alone, Reece wouldn’t have been put into his liminal state between pacifist and corrupted empath either. “Any update on Stone?” Jamey said neutrally, like she didn’t have a personal vendetta against the man.
Aisha shook her head. “He’s still comatose. The president of Stone Solutions Canada is running things for now. I don’t think Grayson is putting much trust in her either, though, and I’m guessing the feeling is mutual.” Aisha had unwound the scarf from her neck as the car warmed, revealing the edge of a thin scar that twisted close to her jugular vein, the one that looked like it came from a knife. Jamey had never asked how she got it, or gotten the story of how a sweet, bubbly doctor had ended up working with the Dead Man. But Aisha was so firmly on the empaths’ side that Jamey couldn’t help but wonder if there’d been an empath in her life, once upon a time.
And then if something had happened to them that brought the Dead Man calling.
She didn’t voice the thoughts out loud, instead saying, “I’ll be honest, I don’t know howyouwork with Grayson or trust him.”
“I don’t trust him at all,” Aisha said, surprising her. “He’s dangerous, and he’s absolutely ruthless. He’ll tell you himself never to trust him. On his advice, I’m prepared that one day he might be my enemy.”
Jamey thought that over as they passed downtown, the high-rises on the right jutting up above the highway.
“Grayson isn’t my boss. I have never needed to trust or take orders from him.” Aisha had pulled off her gloves and had her phone out. “He and I both want to protect people from corrupted empaths, and to protect empaths from the people who want to corrupt them. Everyone else who knows the truth stops after part one.”
“So it’s just you and Grayson?” Jamey said skeptically. “Because I had assumed someone else sent Reece those new gloves in November. Unless glove-making is your hobby?”
Aisha shook her head. “It’s not just us; there are others. But their names aren’t mine to share.” She glanced over at Jamey. “For what it’s worth, they know Grayson is different, and would understand that you’re different in the same way. You wouldn’t ever have to cover up all the amazing things you can do the way you had to hide with the SPD.”
Point to the Vanguards; Jamey could barely imagine not having to constantly check herself. Did Grayson’s trusted circle knowwhyhe was the way he was? Did they know that Jamey’s empath brother had changed her the same way Grayson’s brother had changed him?
Jamey hadn’t told Reece that truth yet. She needed to stop putting that off. He wasn’t going to take it well, but he deserved to know; it would be a terrible secret to keep from him.
The exit sign for Sea-Tac was just up ahead. “Grayson still arrested Reece twice,” Jamey said. “I haven’t made up my mind about working with him. But ifyouwant some backup on this murder in Burlington, I’m in.”
Aisha’s smile grew. “I’ll take it,” she said, and Jamey found herself grudgingly smiling back.
Grayson arrived at the Burlington police station just after eight a.m. The Empath Initiative had prepared them for Grayson’s arrival and he was taken to wait in a small side room.
He left the door open, keeping an ear on the activity around the station as he scrolled through his phone. There was an email from Marist—she’d apparently finally gotten records from the French Canadians and sent over everything about the murdered empath. One Marie Pelletier, age thirty-two, a librarian at a local branch in Montreal. Single with no children; her friends and roommate had been contacted to learn her last known location.
There were pictures of her, probably taken from her social media accounts. Empaths were just as diverse as all of humanity, but Ms. Pelletier had dark brown hair and big brown eyes, just like Cora Falcon. Just like Reece.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway, approaching, accompanied by the sound of wheels on linoleum. Grayson lowered his phone as two officers came in, a short woman with an accordion folder and a man pushing a small cart with two shelves. They introduced themselves as Officers Maguire and Fortin.
“Everything we recovered from the body and the scene is on the cart,” Officer Maguire said. She held out the folder. “These are the pictures of the scene. We’re still waiting on lab results for soil and blood.”
