“I know. I figured we’ll come up with some story, but if he was going to keep going, then we need to know about it.”
“You’re right about that. Did you learn anything useful about him?”
“I think he might be a writer.” Celia stacked the papers back into the manila folder. “He was writing in a journal when I came in. He left just before you got here. You probably passed him on the way in.”
O’Shay sounded as if he was paranoid and obsessive. He had to be the man in the hoodie who left the coffee shop just before Jesse. Everything about that guy had screamed overworked and on a deadline.
“But we’re not sure what’s happening,” Bryce said. “O’Shay didn’t have it in his notes.”
“Just something wrong.”
The early evidence indicated a psychic disturbance. Whether it came from the building itself or something in the building, or even just something else in the neighborhood, was hard to discern without more data. Bryce wished he had the psychic ability to dig into it himself, but he registered as a one on the department’s aptitude test. He was practically a null.
Alex was an eight. He would be able to pick up on more details. However, he’d be incredibly susceptible to its influence. Given what had happened to the speaker, he clearly was already. Bryce needed him to open up further, but hated the thought of shoving his surrogate kid brother into more danger.
Without more insight, more people could be in jeopardy. If a disaster struck and they could have prevented it, Bryce wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
Damn him for his choices.
He rubbed the center of his forehead and sighed. “Alex—”
“No,” Alex said sharply.
They knew each other too well. Alex must have guessed what Bryce wanted from his tone. Bryce said, “I need you to consider it.”
Alex glanced up from the phone. Fear clouded his blue eyes.
Fuck. Making the kid use his talents when he was already scared always made Bryce feel like a villain in a comic book. He boxed his frustration and disappointment up with his anger and obscured his emotions by projecting as much tranquility as he could.
Bryce had to figure out if Alex was normal scared or truly unwilling to do a mental dive. An audience wasn’t going to help, so he pulled out his wallet and laid down some cash between him and Celia. “Can you get me a coffee, black? Biggest they got. And a second one, for David. Plus whatever you and Alex want.”
Celia glanced between them, but thankfully didn’t ask any questions as she scooped up the cash.
“Mocha latte,” Alex said.
“You could ask politely,” Celia replied.
“Fine. Please. Whatever.”
Bryce’s long morning was in competition with inventory days in the department’s alien collections. He waited until Celia took the cash and headed for the sales counter before he turned toward Alex. “Just feel out the neighborhood. Maybe pinpoint a source, or emotional stressor.”
“The locks are rusty today.”
“You’re sure?” Bryce asked.
Alex set Bryce’s phone down and crossed his arms over his chest, holding on to his arms tightly. “The locks are in shit shape.Don’task me.”
Because if Bryce did, Alex would take that as a sign that the information was important enough to sacrifice his well-being if he had to. On a bad day, which was what Alex meant by his code words, his physical health could come into risk. Yet he trusted any call Bryce made. That amount of trust couldn’t be abused.
While Bryce itched for more intelligence, no immediate threat loomed on the horizon. No one was screaming out in pain. They weren’t tracking some nefarious monster preying on innocents. Bryce had joined the DWO in order to protect people from monsters, not become one.
So, Bryce couldn’t risk Alex. Others had before. Others in the department had lost their jobs over it. He worried Alex needed to drop in on his counselor after coffee instead of going to work.
Time for a different tactic. They were still working on Alex’s basic investigation skills. Bryce leaned on the table. “Observations, then. What do you pick up with your physical senses?”
“Smells awful, and it’s too empty.” Alex flicked his gaze toward an artist working in a sketchpad a few tables over. “That guy’s too aggressive with his charcoal. Also, we’re in peak morning rush hour, but no one’s coming in. Foot traffic on the street is down, and I don’t remember seeing anyone on the block except the coffee shop people and the construction crew across the street. Which is weird because there’s one of those twenty-four-hour gyms at the end of the block.”
Bryce hadn’t picked up on that detail, but then he’d been caught up with Jesse. He nodded along with Alex’s assessment. “What else?”
