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“I’ll still be available in case of emergency,” I said, although I was planning on beingveryselective in what I accepted as an emergency. The truth was, Rose needed me tracking down all the leads the Frankfords’ files had provided. Protecting her from whatever else that faction might throw at her was a hell of a lot more important than helping Mr. Heard file overdue payment notices a few minutes faster.
I didn’t think telling him that would go over all that well, though, if I’d even wanted to—or if the oath Rose had taken on my and the other guys’ behalf would have let me.
“I’m shifting my focus over to the programming side of things,” I added. That was the standard line I’d given to my handful of local clients. It was sort of true. I was paying my rent with a couple of online gigs I could pull up to clear my head in between reconnaissance sessions. Gigs where I didn’t have to worry about someone calling me up at any hour to demand to know why they’d gotten this error screen or how to connect the printer they’d accidentally unplugged.
“Hmm,” Heard said. “Just more work then, huh?”
There was something prodding about his tone. I smiled at him, but a prickle ran down my back. Gossip traveled fast around here. People were always a little wary of the Hallowells and their estate, and I had been there an awful lot in the last few weeks.
The landlord wasn’t insinuating anything all that specifically, though, so I shrugged the comment off with a laugh. “What can I say? I like keeping busy.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said as he saw me out, with a narrow look that set off another prickle.
It didn’t matter. He and anyone else could think whatever they wanted. Most of the people in this town had thought I was pretty weird all along—for my interest in computers and all the things I could find out about on those computers, for going away for college and then inexplicably coming back, for not hanging around much with anyone outside my family—in person where they could see, at least. Not that I figured mentioning my online social life would have impressed my neighbors any.
In some ways I’d been coasting, those few years after college. I’d enjoyed myself, sure, but there’d never been much sense of direction to my meanderings. Now I had a purpose. A mission that had somehow spiraled into a quest to rival the ones taken up by the heroes in my video game collection.
I pulled out my phone as I headed down the street, checking a couple of my non-recreational online accounts. No returns yet on the latest feelers I’d put out. That didn’t mean they were total dead-ends, but the longer those queries sat unanswered, the less chance I’d hear anything useful back in the end.
Ah well. I still had plenty more avenues to pursue. I wasn’t sure I was quite a video game-level hero yet, but Charles and Helen Frankford sure as hell could have qualified as final-boss villains. Their files had given us all sorts of data—names of witches who’d come to their meetings and contributed financially to their efforts, schedules of visits to the Cliff that held the demons’ cave, business and political schemes they’d undertaken that must have been tied into the whole conspiracy somehow—but we needed outside proof if we were going to expose any of that, since we couldn’t show anyone the files themselves.
I didn’t only have my computer skills to rely on. My little foray into spy territory, sneaking into the Frankfords’ home and stealing his hard drive, had reminded me of that. Tomorrow I planned to drive out to the area near his coastal property with its demon-portal cave to see if I could find anything useful in the local archives. You never knew what might have been committed to paper that had never made it onto any digital platform. Especially since the Frankfords had been using that property since the ‘60s.
Thinking about getting that close to his base of illicit operations sent a quiver through me that was both nervous and excited. I didn’t exactly relish the idea of stepping into the line of fire again… but maybe I had gotten a taste for more concrete adventure.
First, though, I had the much more mundane mission of restocking my fridge. I ambled into the grocery store and started grabbing my usual go-tos off the shelves, with a nod to the other shoppers. One guy, whose name I couldn’t remember but I knew worked for the post office, let his gaze trail after me as I walked by, as if he were waiting to see what else I’d do.
Okay,somekind of gossip had definitely been going around. Maybe I was better off not knowing what it was.
I turned the corner from one aisle to the next and almost walked straight into my mother.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said, managing to jerk my basket to the side at the last second. “Sorry.”
Mom laughed. The faint sprinkling of flour on the side of her purple skirt told me she’d come straight from a baking session. “Out of everywhere in town, this isn’t where I’d have thought I’d run into you,” she said, and patted her own basket. “It’s the mid-afternoon slow period at the café. We were running low on sugar, so I figured I’d put my break to good use.”
“Reasonable,” I said, and groped for something else to add. I wouldn’t say I was especially close with my parents, but we’d always gotten along. There was just so much from the last couple months that I couldn’t talk to them about. The weight of all those omissions made it hard to think of what Icouldsay.
“You know, I’m glad I did run into you,” Mom said. “You’ve been on the go so much, sudden road trips and all, we’ve hardly seen you recently. Why don’t you come back to the café? You can have the first slice of the strawberry pie that just came out of the oven.”
I didn’t actually have any definite plans for the rest of the afternoon. It might be a good idea to take a little time just to chat, both to show her everything was good and to help me relax around her again.
Also, my mother made the best pie in the state, with the fair ribbons to prove it.
“Sure,” I said with a grin. “Can’t say no to pie.”
I did relax into the conversation as we meandered over to the café where Mom worked. She commented on the weather and Dad’s recent renovation projects, totally non-stress subjects. I found myself telling her about some articles I’d read the other day about mini houses, and she shook her head and said, “Oh, I doubt that’ll last very long. If I’ve learned anything from hearing about your dad’s work, it’s that almost everyone always wants bigger rooms, more space when they have the chance.”
So, my guard was down. I sat down at one of the quaint wooden tables in the otherwise empty café, breathing in that fresh baking scent that filled the place. Mom set a plate with a slice of strawberry pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the table in front of me. I’d just taken my first bite of sweet fruit and buttery pastry when things took a turn in the wrong direction.
“I hear you’re letting go of your clients around town,” she said.
My fork hesitated for a second in mid-air before I took another bite. Of course word would be going around about that. “I am,” I said. “Just making sure they’re good to go, no computer emergencies on the horizon, before I move on.”
Mom set her hands on the back of the chair across from me, her face with its framing of gray-blond hair suddenly looking wearier than usual. “It just worries a mother a little, you know, when she sees her son putting himself out of work.”
“You don’t have to worry,” I said quickly, waving my fork. “I’m not out of work. I’m just changing focus. I’ve got online clients and enough work there to cover the bills that need covering.”
“It seems like relying on people you’ve never even met face-to-face would be a lot less secure.”
