Crosstalk (47 page)

“Oh, surely you can stay a few minutes,” Mary Clare began.

“No, she can't,” Maeve said. “Carnival Pizza closes at five.”

“Aunt Oona, convince her there's no reason she has to leave this second,” Mary Clare said, and Briddey braced herself for the onslaught, but Aunt Oona said, “You don't want to get there after they've closed. It's hurryin' off you'd better be. Maeve, fetch your aunt's coat, won't you?”

Maeve hurried to get it, and Briddey, still shocked that Aunt Oona hadn't tried to force her to stay, put it on.

“Go on, then,” Aunt Oona said, “and may Saint Patrick and all the holy saints of Ireland protect you on your journey.”

“Thank you,” Briddey said, and gave Aunt Oona a grateful kiss on the cheek. She hugged Maeve, whispered, “
Thank
you” to her, told Mary Clare, No, she didn't have time to wait for her to wrap up some soda bread to take with her, and was out the door before Mary Clare could hunt up the aluminum foil.

She would have made a clean getaway if Kathleen hadn't pulled up and blocked her car, giving Mary Clare time to catch up to her and ask her what she and Maeve had been doing in Maeve's room all that time.

“She wanted to show me something on her computer after I made my call,” Briddey said. “And no, Mary Clare, not porn. It was a YouTube video about kittens.”

“She didn't have any YouTube videos on her browsing history when I checked it this morning. It was completely empty.”

I just got an image of a cat from you,
Trent said suddenly.
Are you still at the mall?

“I've been trying to call you, Briddey,” Kathleen said, coming over. “I have to tell you what I found out about Rich—”

Are you there, Briddey?
Trent said.
If you can hear me, turn your phone on.

I couldn't even if I wanted to. It's supposed to be at Carnival Pizza,
Briddey thought, and tried to go into her courtyard, but Kathleen was saying, “I looked him up like I told you, and you'll never guess what I found out—”

“You need to move your car first,” Briddey said, and Kathleen trotted off obligingly to do it.
Now if I could only get rid of Trent and Mary Clare as easily.

I can't hear you,
Trent said.

“Why wouldn't there be anything on her browsing history?” Mary Clare asked. “It doesn't show her being online at all.”

“A few days ago, you were complaining that she spent too much time online,” Briddey said.

“I know, but she obviously has been on. And why would she delete a kitten video?”

“I don't have time to talk about this now,” Briddey said.

“You can't leave yet,” Kathleen said, returning. “I have to tell you about Rich first. And Landis. Remember how I told you he was a hedge fund manager? Well, he isn't. He works for a hedge-trimming company, the big liar—”

This is exactly the kind of conversation C.B. said you shouldn't have,
Briddey thought.
If Trent hears your thoughts—

What did you say?
Trent said.
I heard you say “thoughts” and then lost you.

“And that's nothing compared to what I found out about Rich,” Kathleen said. “He's an even bigger liar than Landis.”

“Why don't you call me later? I really need to go,” Briddey said desperately, and tried to get into her car, but Mary Clare was blocking the door.

I've been trying to call you all afternoon,
Trent said.

“There's been nothing on Maeve's browsing history for the last two weeks,” Mary Clare said.

“Rich is
engaged
!” Kathleen said. “And he seemed so nice!”

“What's Maeve hiding?” Mary Clare demanded.

This is as bad as
Zombienado, Briddey thought.

You need to concentrate,
Trent said.

No, what I need is to get out of here.

“Mom! Telephone!” Maeve called from the house.

“Who is it?” Mary Clare said, stepping away from the car, and Briddey was in it—and into her safe room—like a shot.

“Call me,” she said, shutting the door and starting the car. “Both of you.”

“But I thought you lost your phone—”

Exactly,
Briddey thought,
and I intend for it to stay lost.
“Which is why I've got to go,” she said. “To get it. 'Bye.”

She drove off, blessing Maeve for coming to her rescue again. As soon as she was out of sight, she pulled over to enter C.B.'s number into her phone before she forgot it, and then decided she'd better not, scrawled it on the torn-off lid of the empty Wheat Chex box, and stuck it in her pocket.

I need to tell her to delete his number from her phone,
she thought, driving on, although it probably wasn't necessary. She was obviously already hiding the movies she watched and the books she read—and the computer sites she visited—from her mother, and that was why she'd turned her back when she was looking up the number, because she didn't want Briddey to see how she'd encrypted it.

But Maeve hadn't been typing during that interval. She'd just been standing there motionless, as if she were…

That's impossible,
Briddey thought. But what if Maeve's computer log was empty not because she'd deleted the files but because she hadn't been on her computer at all? Or reading? What if she'd been using the books and the movies as a cover for what she was really doing?

She got in trouble at school for not paying attention,
Briddey remembered suddenly,
and when Mary Clare asked her why, she said, “I was thinking about something else.”

You're being ridiculous,
Briddey told herself.
She was probably only thinking about Xander.
But his picture hadn't been anywhere on the walls of her bedroom, and Maeve had volunteered the information about her crush on him right after Briddey had wondered if she was keeping secrets.
And I wondered it to myself, not aloud.

And Maeve had wanted to go to the park instead of the crowded mall. And had shown up immediately after Briddey'd arrived at the house—out of breath, as if she'd run all the way home from Danika's. And shown up on Briddey's doorstep just in time to save her from Trent.

But she can't be. She's only nine.
She remembered C.B.'s saying what a precocious kid she was—and Mary Clare's conviction that Maeve was keeping something from her.

What if she is?
Briddey wondered, thinking of Maeve standing there looking defensive when Briddey'd asked her about the marshmallows in Lucky Charms. Why? Because she was who C.B. had gotten the list of marshmallow shapes from? He'd said he'd looked them up on a library computer, but the offices had been locked.
He didn't text her to tell her to cover for us,
she thought.
He didn't have to.

An angry honk behind her jerked Briddey back to the present. She was sitting at a light that had been green for who knew how long. She drove through the intersection and down the block, parked, and then went back into her courtyard so Trent couldn't hear her. And C.B. couldn't either.

C.B., who'd said, “Listen, Briddey, about Maeve, there's something I—” and who'd been certain something bad would happen to Briddey if she had the EED done. And who'd been utterly convinced that telepathy was inherited, but who'd instantly dismissed Aunt Oona's “Sight” as bogus—because he hadn't wanted Briddey thinking about the possibility that someone else in her family might be telepathic.

C.B., who'd gone periodically silent, as if he were listening to someone else, and had been off somewhere when the voices attacked her at the theater and in the storage closet. Who'd said, “I'm so sorry. I was—” and then bitten off his words mid-sentence.

Like Maeve had when Briddey had told her she needed to contact C.B. “Oh, if it's him you need to get a message to, you don't—” she'd said, and stopped without finishing her sentence.

“You don't have to call because I can ask him myself,” Briddey said, finishing it for her. She had to talk to Maeve. She started the car and headed back to Mary Clare's.

You don't have to do that,
Maeve said.
We can talk anyplace.

“Then look for me by moonlight.”

—A
LFRED
N
OYES
, “The Highwayman”

That's the great thing about telepathy,
Maeve said.
You can talk
to people anywhere. And any time.

Not while they're driving in traffic,
Briddey said.

You can so,
Maeve said.
I'm talking to you and doing my math homework.

That is
not
the same thing,
Briddey said.
Don't talk to me till I've had a chance to pull over
. And to think what to do. C.B. had told Briddey not to talk to him telepathically when Trent might be listening in, and she obviously had no business talking to Maeve either.

It's okay,
Maeve said.
Trent can't hear us. I know because I'm listening to him. He's wondering why he can't hear you. He thinks you're not trying hard enough. What a creep!

I agree
, Briddey thought, turning off Linden onto a side street,
but just because he can't hear me right now doesn't mean he won't be able to a second from now
.

Yes, it does,
Maeve said confidently,
because—

Shh,
Briddey said firmly, pulling over to the curb and parking. She turned the ignition off, went into her courtyard, and said,
C.B. says I'm not supposed to be talking about you-know-what—

C.B. can't hear us either. He's busy listening to Trent, and now Trent's busy yelling at somebody about why can't they find Dr. Verrick, so it's okay. And I have to talk to you. It's important!

I don't care. If you want to talk, you need to call me on the phone
.

I
can't
call you. I'm over at Danika's, and her mom's almost as bad as Mom. That's why I have to talk to you right now, to tell you you have to
promise
not to tell Mom about this!

Maeve—
Briddey began, wishing fervently there was a way to hang up on her. In another minute Maeve would say the word “telepathy,” and Trent—

No, I told you, he can't hear us. This is a secure channel. My zombie gates are shut. He can't get in. I've got the moat up and everything.

A moat and zombie gates? What on earth did Maeve's safe room look like?

The moat and zombie gates aren't in my safe room,
Maeve said, as if that were obvious.
They're in my castle, and that's in my secret garden, which nobody can get into without the key. I've got the key on a chain around my neck. And inside the castle is Rapunzel's tower, and inside
that
is my safe room, but we don't need to go in there. We're safe here. And anyway, Trent can't hear hardly anything, even when he's trying to.

Which was good news, but—

So do you promise not to tell Mom? You have to. If she finds out I can do it, she'll figure out a way to do it, too. I bet she'd even get an EED just so she could listen to me all the time.

She won't have to,
Briddey thought.
If Trent manages to do what he's planning, Mary Clare will be able to do it on her phone.
And she would jump at the chance to know exactly what Maeve was thinking—and all the moats and zombie gates and towers in the world wouldn't be enough to keep her out. Maeve was right. She wouldn't have any privacy at all.

I
know
,
Maeve said.
Parents would be even worse than zombies. That's why we have to keep it a secret from everybody
.

Zombies? Briddey'd assumed from what C.B. had said that the voices always took the form of a flood.

A flood?
Maeve said.
That doesn't sound very scary. Mine are zombies. The really fast, really scary kind, like in
World War Z.

Where did you see
World War Z
?
Briddey started to ask, but the answer was obvious. Maybe it
would
be a good idea for Mary Clare to be able to read her mind.

No, it wouldn't!
Maeve said.
I'm fine. C.B. rescued me from the zombies and taught me how to build my castle and my safe room and stuff. They won't get in again.

She sounded utterly confident. The voices didn't seem to have traumatized her at all. Or if they had, she'd recovered.
How long has…you-know-what…been going on?
Briddey asked her.

About a month. I thought maybe it was premonitions, like Aunt Oona has, but she could tell stuff that hadn't happened yet and I couldn't, it was just voices, so I looked up a bunch of stuff online—

Which explains why she changed her computer password and deleted her browsing history,
Briddey thought.
She didn't want Mary Clare to see what she'd been looking up.

Yeah, Mom would have
totally
freaked,
Maeve said,
and I couldn't ask Aunt Oona 'cause she'd tell Mom, and I couldn't find anything online except about crazy people, and I didn't know what to do. But then C.B. started talking to me, and telling me what was going to happen, how scary the voices were going to be and what to do to keep them out and stuff, and when they got really bad he rescued me
.

Like he rescued me,
Briddey thought, and was infinitely grateful he'd been there for Maeve, too.

He promised he wouldn't tell Mom, and you have to promise, too. Please! Hang on…oops, Trent's thinking about calling you. 'Bye,
she said, and was gone.

Calling me or calling to me?
Briddey wondered, and a moment later got her answer.

Briddey?
she heard Trent call.
Can you hear me?

Yes,
she thought.
Unfortunately.

I'm not getting anything from you. If you can hear what I'm saying, call me on your phone.

Not a chance,
Briddey thought, starting her car and pulling away from the curb. She drove back to Linden and toward home.

I'm going to send you a series of images like I did this morning,
he told her.
If you can hear any of them, write them down.
And for the next fifteen blocks, she had to listen to him droning,
I'm thinking of a Porsche Cayman GT4—repeat, Porsche Cayman GT4
, followed by a smartwatch, a smart bracelet, Bali, a cucumber serrano martini, and an IPO.

When she was six blocks from her apartment, Trent said,
Forbes Magazine. Repeat, Forbes—
and cut off, which hopefully meant he'd given up, and not that he'd reached Dr. Verrick. Or that he was on his way to her apartment.

No,
Maeve said.
He's at Commspan. He can't leave in case Dr. Verrick calls his office instead of his smartphone.

Good,
Briddey thought.
I thought I told you to only talk to me on the phone, Maeve.

I can't. I'm still at Danika's. I was just trying to help,
she said, sounding wounded, and went away.

Briddey reached her building, started to park in front of it, and then thought better of it and parked around the corner so Trent wouldn't see her car if he found Dr. Verrick and decided to come see her. But if C.B. came over, he might think she wasn't there—

No, he won't,
Maeve said.
He can read your mind, remember?

Maeve! I thought I told you—

And anyway, he's way smarter than Trent. He's really nice, too, isn't he?

Yes.
She got out of the car.
Now go. I mean it, Maeve!
she said, slamming the car door for emphasis.

Do you like him?

Maeve…

You don't still like
Trent
, do you?
Maeve asked.
He's a creep. All he cares about is his stupid job, not you. Not like C.B. He really likes you, but you can't let him know I told you that. He said I wasn't supposed to tell you
.

Maeve, go away, or I'm calling your mother and telling her everything you just told me.

Maeve seemed to have gone away. But for how long? Briddey wondered, going up to her apartment. And what might she say about C.B. or telepathy next time?

Her phone rang. Trent. “Do you have C.B.'s home number?” he asked.

Oh, my God, he heard me thinking about C.B.
“C.B.?” she repeated, as if she couldn't quite place the name.

“Yes, you know.
C.B.,
” Trent said impatiently. “The guy who called me this morning. The crazy one who works down in the icebox and came up with the TalkPlus app.”

“Oh, C.B. Schwartz. No. Why?”

“I still haven't been able to get in touch with Dr. Verrick. Wherever he is, he's got his phone turned off, and I thought maybe C.B. could rig up some way of getting through, an emergency override or something, but I can't get through to
him
either, and he's not down in his lab. You don't know any way to contact him, do you?”

“No,” she said. “I'm sure Dr. Verrick will be in tomorrow morning, and if he isn't, one of his office staff will surely know how to reach him.”

“We can't wait that long. I don't think you realize just what this whole thing is going to mean to us, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart,
she thought disgustedly and then frowned. If Trent didn't care anything about her—and it was painfully obvious he didn't—then why had he thought the EED would work? As far as he knew, only couples who were emotionally bonded could connect. So why had he had it done with her? Had he thought he could fool it the way he'd fooled her?

“Did you get any of the words I sent you?” he asked.

“Words?”

“Yes. I sent you another list of words. You mean you didn't get
any
of them? I've been getting lots of words from you.”

“You have?” she said, her heart beginning to thud. “What were they?”

“I heard you say ‘ice cream' and ‘duck,' which I assume were both from the restaurant menu, and then something about a snake. And zombies.”

“Zombies? Why on earth would I be talking about zombies? Or snakes? You must have heard me wrong.”

“Well, at least I'm hearing you. You need to stop messing with your niece and concentrate on listening,” Trent said. “You don't have any idea where Schwartz hangs out when he's not at work, do you?”

Yes,
she thought.
Ladies' rooms, libraries, storage closets
. “No.”

“Damn,” Trent said. “Listen, I've got to go. My secretary's calling me. I hope that means she's found C.B.'s home number. Concentrate on connecting,” he said, and hung up.

I need to warn C.B. that Trent's looking for him,
she thought, but there was no telling what Trent might hear if she did, and all he had to hear was C.B.'s name. She was just going to have to wait till Trent was asleep and C.B. contacted her, and hope Trent couldn't find him in the meantime.

And do what till then? C.B. had told her to get some sleep, which was a good idea. If she were sleeping, Trent wouldn't be able to hear anything. But she was afraid her mind might wander as she dozed off, and she'd start thinking about him—or Maeve. Like she was doing now.

You need to think about something else,
she told herself, and downloaded “Ode to Billie Joe.”

Bad idea. C.B. was just like the girl in the song—forced to keep secrets, unable to share what was happening to him with anyone, not even his family. And as she pored over the lyrics, she found herself thinking about what he'd said about Billie Joe jumping off the bridge to get away from the voices, and wondered if that had really been why, or if Billie Joe had done it to protect somebody else, like C.B. had been protecting Maeve? It was obvious now why he'd said it wasn't his secret he was worried about—