The Girl in the Box 03 - Soulless (7 page)

When we arrived at the nurses’ station and flashed IDs, a middle-aged overweight woman in pink scrubs showed us to Daniel Lideen’s room. He was sleeping, his long face tilted to the side. The nurse left when Scott asked her to and I looked to Kat. “You should get a feel for his injuries before you wake him up.”

She put her hand on his forehead, causing him to stir slightly. “Not a bad idea.” She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. A light glow appeared under her hand and the clerk’s skin started to shine. A black and purple bruise under his eye began to fade along with a thin scab that ran the length of his cheek. I saw Scott shutting the door as Kat took her hand off the clerk’s forehead and his eyes opened, blinking at the two of us. “That should do it,” Kat said.

“Hello, Daniel,” I said as I leaned over him. “My name is Sienna Clarke and I’m with the FBI.” I halted to give him a second to process that information. His eyes blinked a few times as he tried to focus on me. “I’m here to ask you some questions about your assailant.”

“Oh...okay.” His voice was a little scratchy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more asleep than awake. “I already told the officers what I remember.”

“I know.” I tried to make my reply as soothing as possible. “But they’re local cops and we’re here to ask because the same thing that happened to you happened to some other folks in Wyoming and South Dakota. Can you tell me anything about the person that robbed you?”

He screwed up his face in intense concentration, staring over my shoulder, then went blank. “I don’t...I can’t remember.”

I shot a look at Kat, whose eyes widened as she put her hand on his upper arm. I saw the glow from her as I asked him another question. “Tell me what you do remember.”

“Um...I came into work at about eleven...and I did some restocking in the freezer.” He squinted, as though he were trying to recall. “I remember eating my sandwich and drinking some coffee at about five.” His face relaxed and he shook his head. “After that...I don’t know.”

I looked sidelong at Kat, who was taking long, ragged breaths and whose hand was at her side. She shook her head. “Can you tell me anything else, Dan? Anything could help.”

His eyes were blank. “That’s all. That’s all I remember.”

I gave him as warm of a fake smile as I could. “Excuse me while I talk to my associates.” I beckoned to Kat, who followed me, shuffling along in slow steps to the hallway outside. I looked left and then right; the corridors were white, with dingy tile and little color, but empty. I honed in on Kat. “What’s the matter with him? Has he got brain damage?”

“No!” She shook her head with more emphasis. “I checked him over again after the first time, and this guy is healed; he’s in perfect condition. His skull is fixed, his scars are gone and it doesn’t look like there was anything wrong with his brain even when I touched him the first time, let alone now.”

Scott looked back at the door to the room, which was drawn. “Is it possible he’s lying?”

“Possible.” I nodded at him as I chewed that one over. “But I don’t think so. I was looking in his eyes as he answered, and he didn’t show any of the obvious signs. He was working last night, so it seems unlikely he’s secretly the meta doing all this, unless he can somehow teleport to Wyoming and South Dakota on his breaks.” I shook my head. “I don’t think he’s lying. I think there’s a simpler explanation.”

“What?” Scott looked at me. “You think he has some kind of neurological damage that Kat can’t detect?”

I looked back at him, then to Kat, before I answered. “No. I think that whoever attacked him...” I took a step back and looked through the semi-open door to see the clerk sitting upright in bed, blinking, looking around the room, disoriented, even though he had just been healed by someone who could fix nearly any ailment. “...took his memory.”

Chapter 7

We cleared out of the hospital after some perfunctory goodbyes and thank-yous to Daniel, and checked in with Ariadne. We sat in the car, engine running to give us air conditioning to offset the heat (still almost eighty even though it was nearing midnight) while we listened to Ariadne.

“You think whoever attacked him is responsible for his memory loss?” There was a slight fuzzing in the speaker, probably the result of the air conditioner operating near full blast to keep the three of us from sweating through our suits, but otherwise it almost sounded like Ariadne was in the car with us.

“Which guarantees that it was a meta that attacked him.” I was almost glum at the realization. I was kind of hoping it was going to be some petty criminal that we could slam dunk and leave to the local authorities. Part of that might be because I was checking my phone every few minutes for a call or message that I had yet to receive. I wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence, that much I knew. “Any idea what kinds of metas can cause memory loss?”

“There are a few,” Ariadne said. “Let me talk to Dr. Sessions and get back to you with a list.”

“Any other incidents?” Scott cradled the phone in his hand, holding it just below his chin when he was talking, as though it were a tape recorder.

“Nothing at present. You still need to meet with the local cops, but the Police Chief for Owatonna is out for the night, so it’s best if you wait until tomorrow to make that stop.” There was a pause and a hiss on the phone before Ariadne spoke again. “Check into a hotel and get some sleep. If there aren’t any incidents tonight, check in tomorrow morning after you’ve stopped by the Owatonna PD.”

“Understood.” I tried to keep the fatigue out of my voice as Scott punched the end button on the phone after the two of them added their responses to my own. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m exhausted.”

Scott grew a curious grin, one that cracked his ruddy face and made his eyes dance. “You can’t go to sleep just yet.”

“Pretty sure I can.” I rubbed my eyes. “And will.”

“No, no, no.” The smile was getting kind of creepy. “Do you realize what we’re carrying with us?”

“Guns and teenage angst?”

“Ha. No.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, dangling the new Directorate-issued driver’s license in front of my face. “Fake IDs that aren’t really fake.”

I let my jaw drop in disbelief. “What are you thinking?”

He smiled again, then turned forward in his seat and fastened the seatbelt with one hand while fiddling with the GPS with the other. “I’m thinking we find a hotel with a bar.”

I leaned back in my seat and draped my hand over my eyes. “Right. Because there’s no possible way this could go horrendously wrong.”

I kept my peace on the drive, even though I was questioning not only Scott’s level of responsibility but also his sanity. We found a hotel (with a bar across the street) and I shook my head as we pulled up.

Scott must have sensed my discomfort. “We all agree that the meta who’s doing this is probably far from here by now, right? If he keeps to the pattern?”

“Mighty big ‘if’,” I said with a shake of the head. “But probably.”

“So if we check into the hotel and then have maybe one or two drinks...”

I could tell by his smile he was already reveling in the freedom and there was little I could do to sway him. Still, I had to try. “What if Ariadne calls us after we’ve been drinking with a lead we need to pursue immediately? We’re screwed. We won’t even be able to drive anywhere.”

“I can drive.” Kat spoke, turning to face me. “I’m pretty drained from healing that clerk; I don’t think it’d be a great idea for me to drink right now. So if we get a call, I can drive while you guys sober up.”

“See?” Scott gave me a shrug of unworry that did little to assuage my concerns. “Got it covered.”

I grabbed my bag and opened the door. “Got it covered like what? Like you had Gavrikov covered?”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?” He was following behind, and I caught a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Not so long as he’s stuck in my skull, no.”

We checked in, getting two rooms. I started to suggest that Kat and I could stay in one room while Scott stayed in the other, but when I handed him the cards for his room he handed the other to her and I didn’t bother to argue. I preferred to stay by myself anyway.

We went up to the third floor where our rooms were side by side. “Meet out here in five and we’ll head down together,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. “You guys go have a good time. I’m just gonna turn in; might as well have one of us be rested for the morning.”

“Come on, Sienna. We’ve been working our asses off for months, had Parks and Ariadne breathing down our necks, had all manner of shit go wrong, and now we have a chance to unwind. Don’t be so uptight.”

I took a deep breath before answering so I could avoid ripping his head off while we still had potentially weeks’ worth of road tripping ahead of us. “I’m not being uptight. I just don’t want to screw this up, okay?”

“I get it.” He let the smile recede into a smug, almost taunting expression. “It’s okay. I admire your restraint. You probably don’t even wonder what it feels like.”

I tensed, felt every muscle from my lower back up locking into place. “Wonder what what feels like?”

“Drinking.” His half-smile dissolved into a real one. “You haven’t wondered what it’s like? Your boyfriend goes out drinking sometimes, doesn’t he?”

I felt myself relax, but only a tenth of a percent. Dammit, I had thought he was talking about something far different, and it had let a wave of acid loose in my stomach, sending it roiling. “Yeah, Zack goes out drinking every now and again.” Usually when I’m busy, but he does it. Because he’s old enough.

“And you never felt curious or left behind?” He smiled, a little too innocently.

Damn his smile. I knew what he was doing, what he was suggesting. Any other day, it might not have found its mark. After all, my boyfriend was mature, responsible, secure in his job, and if he went to the bar with his college buddies, he did it on his time off (and usually when I was training.) I’d never felt left behind, not really, because I was too busy doing other things. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and lit up the display. Still nothing. “Fine.” I looked back up at him. “One drink.”

“Attagirl.” He shot a look at Kat. “This’ll be fun. The three of us, on our first assignment, blowing off steam, hanging out at the bar.” He draped a thick arm around Kat and drew her close, giving her a peck on the cheek. “It’s kinda like...” He thought about it for a minute.

“Being grown-ups?” I offered it sarcastically, but it only widened his smile.

“Five minutes.” He turned and his hand fell to grab Kat’s, and they walked toward their door. “We’ll head down together.”

I nodded and slid the card key into my door and turned the handle. When I walked inside, I flipped the switch and waited for the lights to come on. The carpet was a deep maroon and it was a simple setup – two beds, desk, dresser and TV.

I threw my bag on the dresser and retreated to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror at myself. I looked older, mostly because of the suit, but also because I had my hair back in a ponytail. I held up a gloved hand and heard the leather stretch as I clenched a fist and then relaxed it. Grown-up indeed. I pulled the glove off and started to splash water on my face to help me wake up, but then remembered that it would probably destroy the careful amount of makeup I had applied earlier, before I left the Directorate. I rarely wore the stuff, but in this case it seemed important for the role I was playing.

I looked again at myself in the mirror and wondered what I was thinking. We were on a serious assignment, the first chance we had to prove ourselves, and we were going to a bar at midnight to have some drinks even though we weren’t anywhere close to done with our assignment. I sighed and looked at the faceplate on my phone again. The LED indicator that let me know when I had messages or missed calls wasn’t blinking. Screw it. Screw him. We’d been working our asses off for months, Kat was going to stay sober, and Scott and I would just have one or two and call it a night. An energy drink or coffee tomorrow and we’d be ready to keep going.

I tried to remember that reasoning as we walked in the doors to the bar. The light was orange in the room, with flatscreen TVs suspended from the ceiling around the bar itself. Tables were set up to the left and right of the bar area, with a small dance floor in the far corner. Music was playing, a modern pop tune, but not a soul was dancing. I scanned the room as we walked in and the place was only slightly packed, which surprised me given it was Saturday night.

We made our way to the bar, Scott leading us, his grin reaching an infectious stage. He bellied up and Kat sat next to him. I took the seat on the other side of him, mostly because he was more likely to talk than Kat. She was always tired and quiet after healing someone.

The bartender made his way over to us, a guy in his forties that had more than a few extra pounds. He had long brown hair in a ponytail and was happy enough after he checked our IDs. “Whaddya want?” he asked in an accent that was as far from midwestern as I could imagine.

Scott looked over to me first and I shrugged, so he turned to Kat. “Just water for me,” she said. “Designated driver.”

“What’s good here?” I picked up the mixed drinks menu that he had proffered and thumbed through it.

“Honestly? I got some strengths; I make a pretty good Whiskey Sour, Bloody Mary, Rusty Nail, Dirty Martini...my Fuzzy Navel is the stuff of local legend—”

“You don’t need to show us that,” Scott said.

The bartender smiled and his face split into jowls. “I also make a pretty good Cherry Bomb.”

I shrugged, without a clue. “I’ll try the Whiskey Sour.”

“Straight up or over ice?”

He looked back at me and I felt the fatigue of the day edging in. “Surprise me.”

The bartender nodded and Scott ordered a beer, a local brand, and went to the other end of the bar to prep our order. Once he was out of earshot, Scott turned to me. “What do you think so far?”

“He seems like a nice enough guy. Kinda big, though. You think that’s glandular?”