Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

“He’s even cuter in person.”

This was going to be a long night.

They moved inside, Jill making room for them to get through the door, and Matthew was waiting patiently for his turn. He approached Jack as Carolyn shut the front door. He held out his hand and shook Jack’s, firmly, nodding once afterward as if he’d learned everything he needed to know from the handshake. The group moved to the table, except for Carolyn, who went to the kitchen. There was a whiteboard in front of Matthew’s seat, and everybody else pulled out their phones.

Jack typed on his, and Jemma waited for the voice to kick in, curious which he’d chosen.

“I am Jack,” he answered in Harrison Ford’s voice. “You must be Jill.”

“I am,” answered Jill’s phone.

You fit right in with your name,
her dad wrote, and Jack nodded.

“Did they both get J names on purpose?” said Jack’s phone.

They did,
wrote Matt.
We thought it would be neat if they both had the same initials. Their middle names match, too.

At this, Jack turned to Jemma.

“So what are your middle names?” he sent.

Jemma sent a sigh. “I’m Evelyn. She’s Emma.”

A grin spread across Jack’s face, slowly, as if he were fighting the smile.

“You’re both JETs?” he sent.

“Yeah. And believe me, we’ve gotten teased enough about it, so you don’t need to join in,” she sent back.

He nodded, trying to lessen his grin, and Jemma turned back to her dad, who was looking between the two of them, pleased.

“You’re more relaxed around him than I’ve seen you in years, baby girl,” her dad sent Jemma, who smiled, not sure how to address that.

Carolyn returned from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” she sent, and Jemma relayed the message to Jack.

Jack stood, typing on his phone, which said, “I brought wine. Jemma said white would go better with tonight’s meal. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“He’s so sweet, Jemma!” Carolyn sent. “Tell him I don’t need any help with dinner, but he can come pour wine for the adults if he wants. No more than a glass if you’re driving.”

“Of course, Mom,” sent Jemma before she relayed her mother’s directions to Jack. He grinned, picked up the bottle of wine, and followed Carolyn back into the kitchen. “Do you think he’s safe in there?” she sent Jill, who smirked at her.

“He should be fine for a few minutes,” sent Jill. “You, on the other hand,” she sent, pointing her finger at her sister, “are gonna be in so much trouble if you don’t give me more details than you gave Mom and Dad.”

Jemma ran a hand through her hair. “There’s just not a lot to tell, you know?” she sent. “We were friends, and then we decided it might be okay to not be just friends. I’d promised Mom that if things went that way, I’d let her know, so I did. We don’t even really know what’s going on yet, so details are, you know. Ours. Mine and Jack’s. Okay?”

“Okay,” sent Jill. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone about it. But you’d better not tell anyone else more than you tell me!”

Jemma smiled at her younger sister. “Fine. I can agree to that.”

“I love seeing you girls talk,” sent Matt, watching them fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” sent Jill. “You can stop being all sappy now.”

“Promise me that you’ll always talk, no matter what happens in this world, in your lives,” he sent, looking between the two of them.

“Oh, Dad,” sent Jill, getting up to wrap her arms around her father. Jemma rose and did the same.

“Is everything okay?” she sent, and he brought his hands up, placing one on each daughter’s arm.

“Yes.” Under her arms, her father exhaled. “It’s just that everything keeps changing, faster than I can keep up with, and I worry. I worry less when I see the two of you.”

“Dinner’s ready!” sent Carolyn as she got back into the dining room, carrying two plates. She stopped, smile slipping. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” sent Matt. “I’m just being a sentimental old man who has trouble adjusting to new things.”

Carolyn finished her walk to the table, Jack behind her scanning faces, settling on Jemma’s and raising an eyebrow. Jemma sent a quick wave of reassurance, and he followed Carolyn to the table, setting down the plates he carried. Jemma and Jill pulled away from Matt as Carolyn approached, putting her hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“First,” sent Carolyn, “you are not old. We’re the same age, and I’m not old yet. Simple logic, there. Second, you’re adjusting just fine. You still have your family, your job, your home.” She bent forward and kissed him. “Now, stop bringing down the party.”

Matt nodded, and Jemma’s parents watched each other silently for a few seconds longer, communicating either telepathically or in that wordless way they’d always been able to.

“What am I missing?” sent Jack.

“Dad tends to be practical, traditional, and sentimental,” Jemma sent. “Those don’t always mix well. He’s fine. Mom can always get him back to normal pretty quickly.”

Jack glanced at her parents, then looked back at Jemma. “That’s good.”

“Okay, everyone,” sent Carolyn, clapping, making Jemma jump. “It’s time to eat! Sit, sit!”

Jill and Jemma resumed their seats, Jack following suit. When everyone had been seated and was eating, the table was silent, hands being used for food and utensils rather than communication, too many people presenting too high a risk for feedback in normal telepathic communication.

“This is pretty good,” Jack sent Jemma, his mouth full.

“Mom’s not the best cook,” sent Jemma, “but there are a few things she cooks really well, and she’s definitely the best cook in the family. I usually stick to pre-made things or simple dishes, but Dad and Jilly can’t even manage those. If Mom hadn’t been willing to cook even though she works full time, we’d probably have been a fast food and delivery family.”

“My mom loved to cook,” Jack sent. “It was her favorite thing to do, no matter the reason. There was always fresh food in our house for every meal, a fresh batch of cookies or brownies. I helped a lot when I was a kid, and I took over when she passed, but it isn’t a passion for me.”

“What happened to her?” Jemma sent, uncomfortable in the realization that she hadn’t asked.

“Car accident, seven years ago,” he sent. “It was right before I graduated high school. Rough time, but we got through it okay, me and Dad.”

She covered his hand with hers, and he moved his thumb around to give hers a gentle squeeze. The moment was broken by the squeak of marker on dry erase board, and the two looked toward Matt, their hands moving back to their usual positions.

So, Jack, Jemma tells us you’re a computer programmer. What do you program, exactly?

“Oh, this and that,” announced Jack’s phone. “It depends on what clients the company is working with at any given time. I’ve worked with everything from government contracts to websites for kids.”

“Oooh,” her mother’s phone said, “tell me about the website. Is it one I might have used?”

“Well, it was one of my earlier projects…”

As Jack continued explaining his job, Jemma looked around, watching her family interact with him. They had phones, whiteboards, telepathy that didn’t work for everyone, over-interested parents and a sister who thrived on details Jemma couldn’t share. It should have been a disaster at best, but instead, Jemma felt herself relaxing in her chair, leaning back with a smile as she watched and listened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

Watched

“Like I said,” the man’s phone told Jemma, “I don’t think you’re gonna find anything, but you’re welcome to watch.” He led her to a computer that sat apart from an array of screens, navigating to a folder named “LibraryWB.” “Each video file is named by date and time. Click to open it. Space to pause, mouse or arrow keys to rewind. You’ll probably want to change the playback speed to at least 5x.”

Jemma nodded, and the man went back to his chair, getting comfortable and turning away from her. Jemma sat in the basic computer chair, then clicked on the first file and increased the playback speed. That file went quickly, the hours available for Tuesday night completely uneventful. She moved to Wednesday’s video, watching carefully at first, keeping an eye on the cars that came and went from the sliver of parking lot she could see. After a few minutes, she sped the playback even more, watching to see whether anyone had walked beside the building at all. When closing time approached, she slowed it back down, waiting until about an hour after her car left the parking lot before she sped through to the end of the file. She clicked to the next, increasing the speed and sitting back to watch.

“Have you found anything?” sent Jack, preceded by a surge of greeting that kept her from jumping.

She glanced at the security guard, who was looking over his shoulder at her periodically.

“Not yet. Can’t Talk,” she sent back. She felt a wave of acknowledgment, and then he fell silent.

She continued watching the videos and stifled a yawn. Even at increased speed, it took a lot of time to go through hours of footage. Her mind wandered while her eyes stayed glued to the screen.

Saturday had been uneventful, a normal day for her, by recent standards. Jack had enjoyed himself at her parents’ house, but he’d stayed at home the next day to make up the time with his father, and they’d chatted when nobody was watching. Jack had worked to try to find a link between the two of them, any indication that others connected to the library had special abilities, but so far, he hadn’t found anything.

Jemma slowed the video again as closing time approached, adjusting in her seat. When she saw movement on the screen, close to the camera instead of in the parking lot, she slowed it further, to normal speed. The angle of the sun meant she had no help from shadows, but it looked as if someone stood almost directly under the camera; she could see just a hint of hair, a hand mostly out of the frame.

She leaned forward. The clock at the bottom right of the video showed it was closing time. She should see her car leaving within a few minutes. There was no audio, but at some unknown signal, a person stepped forward into the frame, watching the parking lot, body tense, attentive.

He was nearly halfway between the camera and the front of the building, able to see more of the parking lot than Jemma could. He wore a long coat, had hair cut short, but not short enough for the nearby military base. He pulled out a phone, texting while Jemma saw her tail lights turn on and then her car leave. After her car left the parking lot, he backed up, leaving the picture without turning around, without allowing a glimpse of anything identifying.

Jemma rewound the footage, watching the man again for the few minutes she could see him. When he pulled out his phone, she clicked pause. The screen was facing the camera, but it was blurry, and all she could see was the light the phone emitted, not what was being typed. After looking for an option to zoom, Jemma looked toward the security guard, waving him over when he glanced at her again.

He stood next to her, phone in hand. Jemma pointed at the paused video and gestured, starting with her fingers together over the screen and then spreading them wider, as she would to zoom in on a tablet or phone. The man shook his head and typed, letting his phone voice the message.

“It isn’t like you see in the movies. I can make it bigger but it’s gonna be all blurry. Won’t help if you’re trying to see anything. And no, there’s no enhancement software that really does that, at least not here. Can’t tell you how often I’ve been asked.”

Jemma nodded, then typed on her own phone, holding it where he could read it.

Is there any way I can get a copy of this?

He shook his head and typed. “Isn’t allowed. We can send it to the police department if there’s something they need to see, or we keep it here. Nowhere else.” He looked at the screen and back at Jemma before typing again. “Do you need me to pass this on to the police? Someone where they shouldn’t be? Or is this something we can handle in-house?”

Jemma took a breath, fixing her eyes to the stranger on the screen.

“Jack,” she sent, “I think there was someone watching us Thursday night. I haven’t checked the other days yet, but I don’t know, now I need to decide whether to show this to the cops or just leave it since it really still doesn’t prove anything or whether I should push for the city to provide security or…” She trailed off as Jack sent a wave of reassurance.

"Hey, it's okay. You're the calm one who makes the good choices for us. There's no need to panic. We were already acting under the assumption someone was watching us. I'm assuming we still shouldn't Talk right now?"

Jemma looked toward the guard, who was still waiting for an answer. She rewound the video back to the point at which the man started making his way into the frame, pressing play to give herself a few minutes before he would need a response.

"Can't Talk much, no."

"Okay. So do we have any reason to think that going to the police or asking for extra security will backfire? If they don't believe the evidence, since there isn't much, will we be any worse off?"