“Look, that’s not—”
“‘Never touch them myself,’” Sadie said. “That’s what James told me in your subconscious. Like saying that he wasn’t the one who found the beer can under water, that he’d never touched it. Because he wasn’t the one who was trapped. You were lost under the ice, unable to find the way out, until you saw the beer can float down from the surface. You grabbed it and swam back up. And when your hand in the black diving glove came out of the ice and set it next to him, you made Linc scream like a little girl.”
Ford looked uncomfortable. “Why would I say it was James if it wasn’t? Why would I pretend?”
“Because you feel guilty about being angry at James. So you reversed it in your mind and punished yourself for the thing he did. Punished yourself for being angry. Reversal is one of your primary defense mechanisms. You use it a lot.”
“It’s so weird you know that.” He shook it away. “James was a great guy. Everyone said so.”
“And you think so too. But you can still be upset with him.”
Ford stared into space for almost two minutes. When he spoke his voice was plaintive, and young. “He didn’t even notice,” he said. “He didn’t even realize he’d dropped the rope.” His tone changed again, becoming James’s voice: “‘Why do you look so serious, Ford?’ I told him, ‘I could have died.’ And he laughed. ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’d never let that happen.’ He meant it too. He just couldn’t always deliver.”
Sadie said, “But you didn’t need him. You rescued yourself.”
Ford looked away. “Maybe. You said you know what that feels like to be trapped under the ice. Did it happen to you too?”
“Something similar. I’ve been lost and numb. I know what it’s like to feel yourself turning to ice, inch by inch with no hope of escape.” She thought about the Barrington Building, about how close she’d come to jumping. “To be so frozen you can’t feel enough to trust your instincts.” She paused, suddenly self-conscious. “When you’re lost, every direction looks the same.”
She was aware of Ford watching her, could feel his blue eyes on her skin. She certainly wasn’t numb anymore. For a moment she let her mind play tricks about the future: them at the movies, them making dinner together, them lying on a couch being quiet, a hundred lifetimes of normal things she longed to do with him.
She’d decided in the car she wouldn’t tell him any of that, wouldn’t burden him with her feelings. There was no way he could share them—he’d known her less than twenty-four hours—and even if he did, there was no way to act on them. Better to pretend she had no feelings at all.
And there was still Willy’s death to answer for. She said, “I took the gun and the gloves from your pocket last night and hid them, so you should be safe.”
“You keep talking about that.” He frowned. “Safe from who?”
She watched him. “What do you remember from the day with Willy?”
“I remember him taking me to the church and telling me he was the Pharmacist and knocking me out. And then when I came to I was in a shack about thirty miles outside of town and it took me most of the day to get home.”
“Do you know how you got to the shack?”
“No, but it might have been Linc who took me, his place. There were all these little carved lions there, and he’s always liked lions. Tell me about the gloves and gun.”
“You wore the gloves while you used the gun to shoot Willy. You shot him four times.”
Ford shook his head back and forth. “Never happened.”
“I saw it.”
“I’m telling you, no way.”
She hadn’t expected him to flat-out deny it. “You weren’t in your right mind. You probably forgot or repressed it. Just like with the ice that day. You don’t remember anything?”
“Nothing. Except that I’m positive I didn’t do it.” He was serious, concentrating. “What time did it happen?”
“Nine thirty.”
“That’s pretty precise,” he commented.
“You looked at your watch.”
He sat up. “That’s weird. Someone stole my watch.”
“It must have slipped off,” Sadie said, but she had the sense that she was getting further from the truth rather than closer. She felt like she was overlooking a crucial question, and if she could just ask it, everything would fall into place.
“You think I killed him,” Ford said.
“I saw you kill him. I felt you kill him. I pulled the trigger with you. That’s not thinking, that’s knowing.”
“But I know I didn’t.” His voice was urgent. “You’ve been inside my mind. You know me better than I know myself. Do you believe I could have done it? I want to know the truth.”
She looked at him, into his eyes. And she was positive. Unquestionably, unhesitatingly, she knew she was not wrong about him. She knew him, and she knew he was not a murderer. She might not yet have an explanation for what she’d seen, but she was as certain that there was one as she was certain he didn’t kill Willy. She couldn’t articulate how or why, she just… knew. And it was enough.
“No,” she answered him confidently. “I don’t believe you could have done it. I don’t know how it was done, but I know you didn’t do it.”
He gave her a crooked smile, and it took all her willpower not to reach out and trace her fingers over his lips. “Thank you,” he said. Frowned, searching for the right words. “For seeing me.”
Sadie swallowed hard.
They were quiet for a few beats, both apparently fascinated by their laps. He glanced at her. “What do we do now?”
“Now we find the treasure,” she said. Without letting herself think about it she took his hand and pulled him toward the radiator.
He laughed, following her. “What treasure?”
“The one James stole from the Pharmacist.”
“You mean there really was a treasure?”
Sadie nodded. “I’m pretty sure. And Bucky sent you the key.”
“Bigfoot?” Ford pulled the bill out of his pocket.
“Radiators always get left behind, you said it yourself,” Sadie reminded him. “I think the radiator is the safe, and the numbers on that bill are the combination.”
“You mean where it says ‘#41 of 120’?” Ford asked.
Sadie pointed at the thermostat on the radiator. “He said it was for safekeeping. Try it.”
It was the third combination that hit it, 4-11-20. With a sigh the thermostat slid to one side, revealing a large space behind it.
Filled with hundred-dollar bills. A lot of hundred-dollar bills.
“How much is there, do you think?” Ford asked Sadie. “Thousands?”
“Maybe hundreds of thousands. I guess the Pharmacist did pretty well.”
Ford stared at the money. “This is where I make a crime-does-pay joke, but I’m in shock.”
Sadie laughed. “Me too.”
“Do you think I can use it?”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. But I think you should move it. Hide it somewhere only you know about.”
“I trust you.”
“It’s not that,” she said. She was having trouble meeting his eyes. “It’s just that it’s time for me to go.”
“Go?” he repeated as if the word was unfamiliar.
She laughed, trying to make it seem light, easy. Pretend to be her old self. “I came to meet you because I needed to understand what happened and answer some questions. But there are rules, and—” She put out her hand and was horrified to see it was trembling. “Goodbye, Ford Winter.”
He took it, but instead of shaking it, he held it. “I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s really better if I—”
He said, “You’re breathtaking.”
Sadie’s voice caught in her throat. She searched for anything to say, what her old self would have said. But she had only the truth. “You too,” she whispered.
“There was one night, in the tree house.” He looked at their twined hand
s. “I don’t know how to put this.”
She let her thumb brush his wrist. “I know. I was there. With you.”
“In the mirror. It was like we, you and I were—”
Her hand slid out from under his so that only their fingertips were touching. “Together,” she finished.
He nodded, and his eyes found hers. “It was extraordinary.” They stared at one another. “I want to touch you. For real.”
“I want you to.” She was breathing hard, unable to look away.
He dropped her hand and cupped her cheek in his palm. He looked at her, into her, locking his gaze onto her eyes. “Meet me at the lake. Pirates’ Cove.”
“That’s impossible,” Sadie told him sadly.
“Do it anyway,” he urged. “The first Saturday in August.”
“I won’t be there.”
“I will,” he promised.
She let herself have one last glance at him. “Goodbye, Ford.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them both. “Goodbye, Sadie.”
She inhaled quickly and turned, not wanting him to see her cry. She stumbled back through the ruins of Bucky’s lair, tripping over everything, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe, tears rolling down her cheeks. He’d said her name. He’d kissed her hands, and he remem—
Her name. Sadie froze. Willy’s killer had thought, “Watch this, Sadie,” before pulling the trigger. But Ford didn’t know her name when she was in his head.
It couldn’t have been Ford.
She laughed out loud with joy. She’d been right about him. Only she’d had one thing backward: He wasn’t the one who’d been out of his mind. It was her. She had watched someone else kill Willy and thought she was still in Ford’s head.
She’d been blind but it was so clear now. Only a Mind Corps employee could have switched her out of Ford’s head. And, as she pushed open the door and stepped outside, she realized there was only one person at Mind Corps capable of pulling that off. It had to be C—
She felt a sharp jab and, pitching into the arms of the Serenity Services officer in front of her, lost consciousness.
CHAPTER 33
Good, you’re awake,” Curtis said, standing up as Sadie opened her eyes.
She was on her back, staring up at a matte gray ceiling, her wrists bound together. It was windy, and turning her head she saw blue sky and the tops of buildings, unobstructed by glass.
“Is this the Barrington Building?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“How did we get up here?”
“I had them turn on the freight elevator. I know the owner.” He chuckled.
“MRP?”
“Exactly.” He bent and slashed the cable ties on Sadie’s wrists. “Those were just for transport.” He flashed her a gun. “This is to make sure you behave now.”
Sadie’s heart was pounding. Her mouth had a bitter taste, and her lips were dry from whatever had been used to drug her. “I thought Serenity Services took me.”
“I asked to borrow you. I’m a patron of theirs.” He pulled her to her feet and stood her with her back to one of the squat square columns that lined the floor. “Don’t move.”
“What are we doing here?” Sadie’s eyes left the gun to scan the area the way Ford would, taking in the square columns, curled-up scraps of carpeting, and an empty water bottle rattling around. Nothing useful.
“I’m going to tell you a story,” Curtis said. He radiated restless anticipation, pacing back and forth in front of her, the gun in his hand. “Once upon a time there was a girl who saw a boy commit murder. By law and, even more important, by contract, she should have turned him in, but she didn’t. So now she has a choice. She can either call and report his crime to the police. Or”—he pointed the gun at the open side of the building—“say goodbye.”
All the gears in Sadie’s mind clicked into place, and she saw her chance. She looked from the side of the building to him and said, “Okay. Can I use your phone?”
Curtis handed it to her with a reassuring smile. “It’s the right thing to do, Sadie.”
Sadie shivered, staring at the screen. “I don’t know. Turning him in will destroy him. Destroy his whole family.”
Curtis became paternal. “You know you’re not doing his family any favors if you shield them from the truth of who he is. I’m not asking you to do anything but obey the law and the rules of Mind Corps.”
Sadie continued to stare at the phone screen. “Ford isn’t guilty.”
“You have no proof to the contrary.” His voice was soft, almost apologetic. “You really do have to tell them what you saw, Sadie.”
Sadie dropped the phone to her side but held it tightly in her hand. It was her only weapon, and she didn’t want to lose custody of it. “What if I say I wasn’t in my right mind?”
Still apologetic, Curtis said, “They’ll think it’s a metaphor.”
“But it’s not. I did see Willy get killed, but I wasn’t watching Ford do it. Willy knocked Ford out and while he was unconscious Catrina switched me from Ford’s mind to the killer’s.” She looked at him. “Yours. Tell me, Mr. P, did you enjoy knowing I was in your mind?”
“I did.” Their eyes met, and Sadie was repulsed. She couldn’t believe she had once found him so attractive.
Talking fast, so he wouldn’t see how she really felt, she said, “It was genius. You waved the truth about your identity in front of everyone’s eyes the whole time, but no one saw: MRP, Mr. P, Curtis Pinter. The true brains of the City Center operation. That’s how Willy got the information from the chips for his incentive program. He was nothing, a pawn. The Pharmacist is just a smoke screen. You were the only one who could have pulled this off.”
He smiled benignly. “You’re flattering me.”
Now it was Sadie’s turn to be apologetic. “I didn’t mean about the brains. I meant because everyone at Mind Corps is a Minder, so I couldn’t have been in their heads. Everyone but you. You’re just a chippy.”
For a moment his composure slipped, and he snapped, “Don’t use that word.”
“That’s why you’d never been in Syncopy,” she went on, stepping toward him. “Claustrophobia is just an excuse.”
He leveled the gun at her, motioning her back toward the column. He was in control again, calm and understanding. “What a busy mind you have. Unfortunately you can only tell what you witnessed. Did I mention it’s the law? Now make the call.”
“You’d really kill me?” Sadie asked.
He nodded. “I would. Revolution requires sacrifice.”
Sadie hadn’t expected that. “Revolution? What kind of revolution?”
“The end of crime and corruption.”
“Wouldn’t that be putting yourself out of business?” Sadie asked.
He gave her a wry smile. “The Pharmacist isn’t only a money making scheme. He’s a pilot program. A boogey.”
“A boogeyman? Like Bricolage deals with?”
“Exactly.” Curtis was suave now. He slid the gun into a hip holster and used his hands while he talked. “With the Pharmacist we created the ultimate boogeyman, a mysterious figure who’s powerful and vindictive and has the magical ability to read thoughts. By using information obtained through Syncopy we were able to radically increase the speed at which he gained power, until he was at the center of nearly all the criminal activity in City Center.” He paused, his eyes alight with excitement. “We’re now poised to turn City Center into a criminal nexus where researchers of every stripe can run experiments in a real-world setting on subjects who don’t even know they are being studied.” He was watching her and her reaction, closely. “We don’t have to stop at knowing what gets subjects’ attention, we can learn their intentions. This is the beginning of a new era in social research and aggressive philanthropy: the living laboratory.”
“A living laboratory,” Sadie repeated, trying to mirror his enthusiasm. If she could get him to think she was an ally, she might be able to get close enou
gh to get the gun from its holster. “That’s why MRP bought so many buildings.” She remembered the guys unloading the truck that night in the alley behind Plum’s club. “You were setting up discreet research facilities in City Center.”
“Exactly.” His face lit up and he stepped closer to her. “You understand now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Sadie told him. Three more steps, that was all she needed. “It’s an amazing vision. I can see why you couldn’t let peons like Willy or Ford interfere.”
He looked at her cautiously. “Do you mean that?”
She nodded. “This is bigger than individuals. I’d thought you killed James because he stole your treasure, but I now see it was because that kind of recklessness has to be contained.”
“And I’ll get the money back,” Curtis added.
Sadie was contrite. “By treasure I meant Plum. Your sister. How they were going to run away together.” She shook her head. “After everything you’ve done for her. To support her. You promised when you were children to give her everything, and you have kept your word.” She reached a comforting hand toward his arm, just out of reach. “It must have been upsetting when James threatened to steal her from you.”
Curtis smiled down at her, moving a little closer. “It was a betrayal. And it showed a worrisome lack of judgment on her part. But we dealt with it. It’s over.”
“You left James’s phone in her apartment so she would know what you’d done,” Sadie said, understanding it now. “What you were willing to do for her.” And what you’d do again, over and over, if she ever tried to leave, Sadie thought, remembering the look of fear on Plum’s face. “Is that why you kept Ford’s watch? To use the same way?”
“Exactly. I wanted her to know that I would do anything to take care of her.” Curtis said it simply, as if he were talking about taking out a loan, not murdering people.
Sadie sighed. “She’s lucky to have you.” She shifted, stepping slightly away from the column. She held his gaze, moving her hand toward the gun. Her fingertips brushed it—
“You’re pathetic.” The voice came from behind them, and they both swung around to see Catrina storming across the floor toward them.