Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One) (2 page)

Sarah couldn’t help but smile. “I know. You’ve been my saving grace in the mess that’s my life. But I’m not interested in a fling. And don’t tell me you don’t understand. You’ve been with Todd for a year now. You’ve never been one to have a fling.”

“I never said I was. I’m just saying you need to stir things up. Get back out there. I bet it would help.”

A customer approached with a purchase and Sarah stepped back. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll be fine. It’s a phase. It’ll pass.” Rachel didn’t look convinced as she took a book from the customer.

“See you at lunch,” said Sarah and she disappeared with a wave into the aisles.

**

JOHN SHERLOCK RAMSEY turned into the non-fiction aisle and grabbed a book. He flipped through it but kept his attention on the women at the register. He knew both of them, but his attention was on Sarah. He watched them talk, and then Sarah walked away and moved deeper into the store. He’d studied her background and knew her coworkers, including their boss Arnold Tolliver. In Ramsey’s line of work, it served him well to be prepared. He put the book down and debated his next move. No time like the present, he thought to himself. He left the aisle and moved back out toward the entrance. When he saw Sarah engaged with a customer, he paused and grabbed another book, one which appeared to cover the migration patterns of wild geese.

“Need any help, sir?”

He turned and saw Rachel, Sarah’s coworker, standing behind him. Her blonde hair bounced, and her blue eyes exuded perkiness as she stood next to him. Although she was petite in stature, her personality made up for it.

She stared at him when he didn’t answer. “Sir?”

“No, thanks,” he answered. He waved his book. “Just reading about geese, you know, migrating and all.”

She looked at the book and then back at him. He didn’t know how she’d snuck up on him, since she’d been behind the register when he’d left the aisle.

“All right, well,” she said, “let me know if you need any help.” She gave him another look before she turned and headed back up to the front counter.

“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.” He dropped his book onto the shelf and looked again for Sarah, who’d disappeared after finishing with her customer. He walked down the Fiction-Mystery aisle and cut across three others before turning left into the Self-Help section. He stopped short when he almost ran into a stooped elderly lady with silver-white hair who was talking with Sarah.

“I don’t see the book I’m looking for, dear. My niece wants something about vampires and werewolves or something like that. Good grief. Why she reads that, I don’t know. Do you know where would I find something like that?”

“Well, ma’am, we have several books on that topic. There’s a fiction section dedicated to the subject. You need to go to aisle nine. Just go to the end of this row and turn left. It’s two aisles down.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate the help.” The older woman turned and glanced at Ramsey before heading down the aisle.

Ramsey had grabbed another random book and was flipping through it as he listened to the exchange between the customer and his latest assignee. But he caught the look from the woman. He recognized the elderly lady immediately. He sighed as the reason for her appearance became apparent to him. Don’t have much faith in me, do you, Morgana? he thought.

“You need anything, sir?” The voice came from behind, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned and faced the object of his interest. She stood at nearly his height. Her wavy dark brown hair dusted the tops of her shoulders, and her bangs rested just above her eyes. Her nametag sat pinned on her shoulder, and he noticed her necklace—a silver hummingbird that dangled from her neck. Her eyes watched him as she waited for his answer. He momentarily lost his train of thought. His normally smooth charm, which always helped during initial contact, deserted him now, and it bothered him that this assignment affected him so strangely.

“Sir, do you need any help? Looking for something in particular?”

He finally spoke. “No, doing just fine, thanks. Found what I was looking for.” He lifted the book and waved it at her before he took a moment to read the title - “The Single Woman’s Survival Guide.” He groaned inwardly. “Just trying to survive out there as a single woman, I suppose.” Jeez, he really needed to pay attention to the books he was picking.

“You sure? “ She narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.” He turned and put the book back on the shelf.

“Well, my name’s Sarah if you need anything.” She pointed to her nametag and then turned, heading back down the aisle.

“Well, damn,” he whispered to himself as she walked away. “How much worse could that have been?” He watched her turn the corner and disappear from view. He glanced at his watch, considered the events of the morning, made a few decisions, and headed toward the exit.

FOUR HOURS LATER, Sarah and Rachel sat in the sandwich shop across the street, getting a quick lunch before returning to the bookstore for the afternoon shift. The morning had remained boring and uneventful. Rachel had dealt with only one computer glitch, which was a personal record, and Sarah had dealt with relatively few customers, which pleased her a great deal.

Sarah took a sip of her large coffee, thinking about possibly getting another before heading back to work.

“You know, you should try a sleeping pill or something,” said Rachel. “You’re still looking a little rough.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the honesty,” said Sarah.

“Well, if your friend can’t tell you, who can?” asked Rachel, sipping her lemonade. “Drinking all that caffeine can’t be good for sleeping tonight, you know?”

“Yeah, well, it’s doing a good job at keeping me awake at the moment,” said Sarah, taking another sip.

“Well, then, please consider some sort of remedy tonight. You could stop by the drugstore on your way home. Buy something over the counter.”

“I don’t like taking pills. Makes me feel weird. Like I’m not myself. Then I’m groggy in the morning.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but feeling groggy can’t be any worse than looking like you’ve got ten-pound sandbags under your eyes.”

“I’m fine,” said Sarah. “It won’t last forever. Everyone has bouts of insomnia.” Sarah sighed, knowing her friend was unconvinced.

“Hope so, for your sake,” said Rachel. She took a second before asking the next question. “So, did you talk to him?”

“Who?” asked Sarah.

“The guy. You know, I mentioned him earlier. The cute one? I managed to speak to him for a second. Definitely your type, especially with those smoldering eyes.”

“Smoldering eyes?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. I saw you two with your heads together over in Self-Help,” said Rachel, smiling.

“With our heads together? What are you talking about? I asked him if he needed any help. About as exciting as having a conversation with Arnie.” Sarah snorted but didn’t admit she’d noticed his eyes. “Besides, he was a little odd. He was looking at a book about single women.”

“How coincidental! That’s exactly what you are! Sounds promising, if you ask me. I think it’s a sign,” Rachel replied.

“Sign?” said Sarah. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s a sign. Reading a book about single women obviously means he’s my dream guy.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying. It’s the perfect story to tell your kids one day…” Rachel said as she looked off into space. “I met your Dad in a bookstore. He was reading about single women, and of course, since I was one, we fell madly in love…” Her voice drifted off in reverie. She sighed and looked back at Sarah.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Sarah. “Your imagination is a little over utilized. There are no signs, no fireworks, and no future kids. Come back down to earth, please.”

Rachel said nothing, which surprised Sarah, because her friend rarely shut up about anything, especially this topic. She glanced up to see Rachel’s gaze directed toward the front door. She followed it to see what had her attention and Sarah almost dropped her coffee cup when in walked the same man they were currently discussing. He was whistling, had a paper tucked under his arm, and was headed over to the lunch counter.

“Well, then,” said Rachel, watching the new arrival enter the restaurant, “I think now’s about time to start believing in signs, because if that isn’t one, then I don’t know what is.”

**

RAMSEY KNEW HE had to take this gradually. He had made the initial contact, which was all he had intended to do that day. Granted, the idea he’d formulated in his mind as to how it would play out was vastly different from how it had actually gone, but he felt he had made progress.

That belief was dashed as he rounded the corner after leaving the bookstore and found the elderly lady, whom Sarah had directed toward aisle nine a short time ago, leaning against his car. He stopped and eyed her warily.

“Morgana. What a not-so-pleasant surprise. What brings you to my neck of the woods?” he asked.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Ramsey. You know why I’m here,” retorted the stately older woman, no longer stooped.

“Direct as usual,” he replied. A steely tone entered his voice as he approached her. “I’ve been on plenty of assignments, Morgana, and as far as I can recall, this is the first time I’ve ever encountered you joining me. Will you be helping with the transition on this one, or just hanging out and being the general pain in the rear end that you naturally are?”

She stared at him, measuring her thoughts before responding. “If you did your job without screw-ups, I wouldn’t have to be the pain in your backside. In case you’ve forgotten, your last assignment was a failure. The Council was not in agreement that you should handle this case. I, for some foolish reason, convinced them that you could. Therefore my rear end, and yours for that matter, are on the line. I want to ensure that you’re handling this one with the proper care it requires. She’s important. It’s critical that you don’t screw this up.” Morgana stared hard at him. “Did you see her? It won’t be much longer.”

He ignored her last comment. “For the record, Morgana, that last assignee was a moron, and he deserves as much blame as I do. I told him to stay put, and he chose to sneak out, get drunk and go play cops and robbers with two idiots he met in a bar. What the hell did you expect from me? Did you want me to chain him down?”

“If that’s what’s required, then yes. You were responsible for him, and his discovery could have revealed our presence and put us at great risk. You should have known better. His grandfather is a member of the Council whose grandson, idiot or not, is regarded as an advanced member of the Community and should have been treated as such.” Her gray eyes never wavered from his.

Ramsey steadied himself before responding. “I’ve been doing this a long time,” he replied with a measured clip in his voice. “I hardly think any member of our group with the slightest amount of common sense would have considered him to be ‘advanced,’ and I use that word under protest, no matter who he was. The guy was less interesting than a cardboard box and about as smart as one. It would not have been a great loss if he’d bought it in the accident.” Ramsey worked at controlling his impatience with her.

Morgana eyed him with obvious irritation. “Don’t be stupid. I don’t care if he has the mental capacity of a four-year-old. He is the grandson of a Councilor. Whether or not you liked him or whether he measured up to your expectations is not your concern, and your opinion of his importance or lack of it matters not in the slightest. You merely had to get him through the transition smoothly and without incident. Both of which you failed at miserably.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to respond in defense of his actions. He remained quiet, though, and instead just stared back at her, as if knowing that defending himself was pointless. She took the silence as an invitation to continue the conversation.

“And speaking of failing, based on that initial intervention back at the bookstore, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re the right person for this job. Are you losing your touch?”

He laughed, but with little amusement. He matched her intense gaze and spoke in a tone that did not invite discussion. “I know how and when to make contact and when to take the necessary actions that are required, despite your opinion of me or my past decision-making skills. And yes, I think I also know when a subject is close to their Shift.” He tried hard to keep the anger out of his voice. “Obviously you would not have picked me for this if you thought otherwise. Which begs the question, my Divine Ms. M, why are you really here?”

She stared back, saying nothing, but then regained her focus. “Like I said, Ramsey, my ass is on the line, and as much it annoys you, I happen to be quite fond of it.” She shifted away from the car and faced him. “That being the case, I’m going to be keeping my eye on this one.” Her gaze drilled through him. “This is the last chance for you. Mess this up and you can work in a bookstore as well. Provided, of course, that you’re still employable.”

That last sentence surprised him. “Threats, Morgana?” he asked as she turned to walk away. “That’s not your style.”

She stopped and turned back. “You have no idea what my style is, Ramsey,” she said as she turned back toward the street, no longer looking like the frail elderly lady that she had presented herself as in the bookstore. “No idea at all,” she said, walking away.

Ramsey watched her turn the corner and disappear from sight. His gut twitched, which in his experience never boded well. As he was known to say in his line of work, something smelled, and it wasn’t a bouquet of flowers. He didn’t know what was off, but it was something. If it had pulled Morgana back out on the street, then this assignment must be unlike any other that he had handled before, botched jobs or not, and it was attracting the attention of the Council. And it wasn’t about anybody’s grandkid either.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

“Sherlock? What’s wrong?” asked the deep voice that picked up on the other end of the line. Ramsey barely noticed the use of his middle name, which his friend preferred to use since meeting Ramsey six years ago.