We should instead consider the advantages of Evan Grayson’s new state. Evan has been improved. He is stronger and faster than ever yet no longer has emotions or attachments to interfere with his work. He’s as dead inside as a corpse now—and in the fight against empaths, that’s exactly what we need.
—Comment by H.T. on a Stone Solutions manual,Anatomy of a Dead Man
Jamey sat at the kitchen table, coffee in front of her and her headphones in her ears. On the other end of the phone line was Aisha Easterby.
“So you think Reece is being framed?”
There was no skepticism in Aisha’s voice, just the compassion of a doctor and the open-mindedness of a scientist. Jamey wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Grayson thinksI’m being naive and emotional, even if he’s too polite to say it in those words.”
“Well, I think Grayson should remember you were already a detective when he was still partying in college,” Aisha said a little more dryly, “and he should listen to you.”
Jamey snorted. “I don’t have proof either way,” she confessed. “But I’ve seen a lot of crimes. And I don’t think this was Reece.” She watched the rain falling on the trees, trying to put a gut feeling into words. “There’s a body and a neat pile of evidence implicating Reece. Too neat.”
“Like a magician’s sleight of hand? Someone wants your focus on their illusion so you don’t pay attention to the real trick?”
“Yes,” Jamey said. “Reece is a lot smarter and more competent than he lets people think. He wouldn’t have left evidence like this.”
“But what if hewantedyou to know it was him?” Aisha said, careful and gentle.
“Then he would have done something more dramatic. Something Stone Solutions couldn’t have quickly hushed up, like they’ve done here.” Jamey bit her lip. “Look, I know it sounds like I’m grasping at straws, that I’m just refusing to believe that Reece is really corrupted and capable of murder—”
“Or maybe you’ve got killer detective instincts,” Aisha said firmly, “and you also know Reece better than anyone else does. I agree with you. He didn’t do this. Let’s find proof and remind Evan thatinnocent until proven guiltystill applies to corrupted empaths.”
Jamey let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thanks,” she said gratefully. “How’s it going with the pacifist empaths?”
“Diesel and I split the list. All of them are present and accounted for, and most have safe places to lay low for a fewdays,” Aisha said. “But we’ve got ten that still need protection.” She coughed. “Good thing Grayson has a whole safe house here.”
“You’re not serious,” Jamey said, even as a grudging smile began to play on her lips.
“A house full of empathy and compassion? Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Jamey could hear Aisha’s smile in the words. “Diesel’s into it too. And where are you going to get a safer place than a safe house with a former marine?”
Maybe not surprising that Aisha and Diesel were in sync now, considering everything they’d been through together. And maybe combining ten empaths and two kind but traumatized sweethearts in a safe house wasn’t the worst idea.
“I don’t hate this plan,” Jamey admitted.
“Evan will back us, I know he will, and he’ll handle all the costs,” Aisha promised. “We’ll get them in the air tomorrow. What’s the best airport?”
“I’ll check with Liam, but my first thought is Bellingham,” Jamey said. “We can fly them in from all over the country without them coming into the lion’s den of Seattle, and then Liam could fly them up to Salt Spring from there.”
“That’s perfect,” Aisha said.
“We’ll have to make sure they all find and leave their Stone Solutions trackers at home, though,” Jamey added. “Last thing we want is those assholes finding out we’re moving a whole group of empaths under their noses.”
“You got it.”
“And Liam and I will fly up tonight, check on you both and make sure the house is secure.”
“Absolutely.” Aisha sounded happier and more hopeful than she had since Jamey had pulled her out of Polaris. “We’re going to make this happen, Jamey. Have hope.”
Jamey held her phone for a moment after they hung up, looking at her texts, her unanswered messages to Reece.
She wasn’t giving up. But Grayson couldn’t feel hope. He didn’t have any hope that he could save his own brother.
A memory played in her mind, a phone call from the SPD’s Officer Stensby, but the voice on the other side a stranger with an accent like Evan Grayson’s.
Apparently Officer Stensby punctured the brake fluid in Reece’s car earlier today. It’s likely all drained out by now.
I have a personal interest in Reece’s safety, so if you could get in touch with some of the folks back in Seattle and see if anyone can find Reece before his brakes fail, I’d be real appreciative.
