Echo 8 (6 page)

“Yes, it's important. But it's
two days
, Tess. They know we're working on something classified—I'll tell them we have to reschedule.”

“No, don't. It's too late for that. Some of them traveled from out of state, right?” Tess picked up a piece of toast. “I'll keep in regular contact, Abby. Go and don't worry about us.”

Abby leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. She watched Tess inhale her breakfast. Tess was careful to keep her eyes on her food, because despite the confidence with which she'd dismissed Abby's concerns, she would prefer Abby stayed, in case she needed help with the Bureau.

“Don't take unnecessary risks, Tess,” Abby finally said. “Listen to Ross.”

Tess groaned and rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone seem to think I need a keeper?”

Abby fixed her with a maternal glare, exasperation warring with affection. “You know that's not what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I couldn't ask for a more dedicated researcher. You put your job before everything else. That's okay—you're young. You have energy and ambition. I know what this job means to you.”

“It's bigger than me and the job, Abby. It's—”

“I
know
all that. I get it.” She folded her hands on the table. “God, Tess, you've learned everything from Goff—the best and the worst. You can't do your job if you follow in his footsteps.”

Tess dropped her gaze to the tabletop, feeling Abby's words like a blow.

Abby covered Tess's hand with hers. “Don't try to do it all yourself. Work with the task force. Let Ross protect you. That's all I ask. Okay?”

Tess met her gaze. “Okay.”

Abby rose from the table. “Check in with the doctor the Bureau sent before she leaves. She's next door to Ross. I'll see you Monday morning.”

*   *   *

Ross had intended to leave the institute. He needed to clear his head so he could figure out exactly how much he was going to say to Director Garcia, and there was a coffee shop a couple blocks away. He'd only planned to be gone for half an hour. There was an agent on Jake, two more walking the halls, and a fourth outside on the grounds. Abby had checked the resident scientists into corporate housing for the weekend. The building was as secure as it
could
be.

But no sooner had the barista placed the circa-1950 chipped porcelain mug in front of him than he asked for a to-go cup and headed back to Seattle Psi. He carried his bagel and coffee to the observation room adjacent to the lab, where he could send his email
and
keep an eye on Jake. He avoided questioning himself too closely about what other motives might have led him there.

He sat down at a narrow desk that faced the one-way glass. Jake stood near the door on the opposite wall, and he could see Tess through its window.

Ross listened to the end of their initial exchange, and when Tess excused herself to eat breakfast, he sat deliberating about whether to make his presence known. He wanted to see what she would do if she thought she was alone.… But was that serving the Bureau's interests, or his own?

He swore under his breath. He wasn't used to second-guessing himself, and he couldn't afford it in a situation where he needed to stay sharp. He debated again about whether to inform Garcia about what had happened the night before, with Tess. It was his duty to do so—the assignment had been compromised.

Yet he hesitated.

Tess reappeared at the window, and Jake crossed the room and joined her, leaning on his elbow against the doorframe. Ross's hand crept to his sidearm. The glass between Jake and Tess was not reinforced—the research lab had not been designed to confine prisoners. He hoped his man in the corridor was paying attention.

“What do you say, Jake?” asked Tess.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But I have some questions first.”

“That's understandable. I'll do my best to answer.”

“Explain again what happened to me. You said there was an asteroid?”

She nodded. “You remember nothing about that? The other Echoes we've talked to remember. It was all over the news.”

“I sort of checked out for a while.” Jake's voice had grown quiet, and Ross remembered what he'd said about killing himself.

“I really can't tell you much more than I did before,” continued Tess. “The impact displaced you. And the disruption of your connection with your universe—it changed you.”

“I was almost dead yesterday. I'm alive again because I drained some of your energy. I'm basically an energy vampire.”

Jake's fingers traced along the top of the window, and Ross squeezed the grip of his gun.

“I don't care much for that word,” replied Tess. “You're not a monster. But you've got the gist of it. Over the course of a couple days, your bodies run down. You fade.”

“Any guesses about why?”

Tess shifted on the other side of the door, and Ross wondered how long before her legs gave out. She must be exhausted.

“Many,” she replied. “More than we have time for. But in my opinion, the hypotheses with the most merit include Schrödinger's notion of ‘entanglement,' which suggests the possibility of imperceptible links between nonlocal entities.”

Jake hesitated. “Um, Doctor…”

Ross knew what she meant but only because he'd read her doctoral thesis.

She smiled. “Sorry, it doesn't have to be that complicated. Based on this idea of links we can't see, some scientists have hypothesized that our universe and everything in it is connected—like a web, or a network. Some of us who've studied you believe that your individual energy was drawn from your universal web, and you're severed from it now.”

“You're saying our batteries run down, and we can't connect to the battery charger.”

“Yes, good analogy.”

“But we can drain power off
your
batteries.”

“Exactly.”

“Which is what I did to you. But you're still alive.”

“For some reason you released me before I was…”

“Sucked dry?”

Tess and Jake stood staring at each other. If she replied, it was too quiet for Ross to hear. Finally Jake stepped back from the window and began to pace. Ross breathed and let his hand fall away from his weapon.

“I'm sorry,” said Tess, watching Jake. “I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

“Did he tell you I killed myself? Your boyfriend, I mean.”

Ross stiffened with surprise, and wariness. His eyes darted from the fade to Tess.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Do you mean Agent McGinnis?”

“Yeah, the Fed. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome.”

“He's not … I'm not involved with him.” Ross leaned closer to the glass. He read nothing but surprise in her face.
She doesn't remember.

“Agent McGinnis is here to help me with my work.”

Ross straightened, guilt worming through his intestines. She was partly right. The White House
did
want them to work together, but mainly so Ross could monitor her activities. Her mentor had resented the fact that the United States—and specifically the Bureau—had taken the lead in addressing the Echo threat. Professor Goff had been vocal in his disapproval of the shootings, and of the policy to keep the public in the dark about the danger. Tess and Goff were viewed as valuable resources—and security risks.

Jake stopped pacing and looked at Tess. “He's not a very
good
boyfriend, leaving you alone with a murderer.”

The expression Tess now wore was all too familiar to Ross. The knit brows, with the upside-down “v” between them. The pursed lips.

“You're not a murderer, Jake. It's a survival instinct. But he did tell me that you took your own life. Do you want to tell me why?”

“No, I don't. I want to talk about
you
now.”

Tess folded her arms. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We do. I'll tell you what you want to know. But apparently I'm not going to be around much longer, and I like the sound of your voice. So humor me for a minute, okay, Doctor?”

Jesus, what kind of game was this? The fade was
f lirting
with her. Jake seemed like he was probably an okay guy in his former life—maybe a touch cocky and manipulative. But he was a predator now, and he was standing just a few feet from a woman who was so wrapped up in her job she seemed to forget she needed to keep breathing to do it.

“Okay,” replied Tess. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you get interested in this kind of work?”

“This is not the kind of work I normally do. I spend most of my time compiling study results. Or reading other people's study results.”

“But how did you get interested in psychic stuff?”

Ross closed his eyes as the tension in his gut worked its way to his chest. This was something Tess didn't want to talk about—something Jake had no business knowing, or Ross either for that matter. But Ross did know, because he'd read the Bureau's file on her.

Tess grew very quiet, and Jake waited.

“My mother had precognitive ability.”

“You mean she knew things before they happened?”

Tess nodded. “She was always predicting things. Small things. Not like natural disasters. Like my grandmother was going to call, or a friend was going to turn out to be pregnant. My aunt called them ‘little prophecies.'”

The shrinks had hardly been able to get Tess to talk about her mother, yet here she was, opening up to Jake. There was no reason Ross should be annoyed, but he was.

“Was she always right?” asked Jake.

“She was. At least that's what I remember. One time she knew my hamster was going to die, and she made sure I was gone the day it happened.”

Ross smiled, and so did Tess. But she wasn't smiling at him.… She was smiling at Jake.

“Was it weird growing up with that?”

“Not at all.” Tess laughed. “I thought everyone's mom could do it.”

Jake's hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans, and he stepped closer to the door. “When did she die?”

“A long time ago. When I was a kid.”

Seven-year-old Tess had jumped on top of her mother's casket as they were lowering it. They'd had to fish her out of the mud. Her psychologist father had put her on kiddie antidepressants, because he already had a weird wife and he didn't want a weird daughter.

“After she died, I decided she was magic,” Tess continued. “I made up this story and told it to myself for years. I was in high school before I really let it go.”

Jake leaned against the doorframe again, and Ross could see his profile. He could also see Jake's hands balled into fists in his pockets. The fade
must
be feeling an urge to feed—why was he standing so close? He could ask her to go away. He could cross to the other side of the room. He could break through the glass and grab her. Why was he standing there, enduring discomfort?

You know why, asshole. He likes her.

“What was the story you made up?” Jake asked.

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Did you ever read
A Wrinkle in Time
?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “I worked in a bookstore for ten years.”

“Well, I must have read that book a dozen times, and it was a lot like that. She was off visiting another dimension, and someday, when I was older, she was going to come back and take me there too. I didn't fantasize she'd come back and we'd all be a family again, like in the book. I didn't want to share her with my dad. Isn't that awful?”

“Not if he's anything like
my
dad,” Jake muttered, glancing away.

While Jake's gaze was off her, Tess dabbed at her eyes, and Ross dug his fingers into his thigh.
Emotionally impenetrable
, one evaluation had read. He remembered thinking that didn't sound like something a psychologist should say, especially about a little kid.

“Okay,” said Jake. “You held up your end. You wanted to know what it felt like—what I did to you?”

“Yes,” replied Tess. “Let's start with that.”

“You may be sorry.”

Jake shifted so he was standing in front of the door. He planted a hand on either side and leaned in, so Ross could no longer see Tess.

Ross drew his weapon and stepped toward the observation room door, still watching the window.

“I could feel you, the whole time we were talking. Your warmth. Your energy. Something emanated out of you, like a field of tangible light. Warm and amber. Thick like honey.”

Ross reached for the door handle.

“When you touched me…” Jake shook his head. “It was like I plunged into molten light. It enveloped me, seeping into my pores. I tasted you on my tongue, in the back of my throat. Felt you pulsing through my veins. Along my nerve fibers. I didn't want to stop.”

There was a long, electric pause. Ross couldn't see Tess. Was she afraid? She sure as hell
should
be.

She cleared her throat, replying in a voice that quavered, “But you did.”

“I knew I was hurting you.”

Tess drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “That's good, Jake. A good sign. It means you have some control over it. We can work with that.”

Jake nodded his head, but he didn't reply.

“Your description … it was really beautiful. Like a poem.”

Jake stared at her, and so did Ross. Could she possibly have missed the overt sensuality in Jake's description, or was she choosing to overlook it?

“There's something wrong with you,” Jake said, giving voice to Ross's own thoughts. “I've just told you I wanted to eat you.”

Tess smiled. “Is that what you said? It sounded much nicer than that. You're a writer, aren't you?”