At First Touch (11 page)

I studied her for a moment and decided it wasn’t a big deal. I should understand better than most how it felt to be looked at differently for something you couldn’t help. Being loaded in a town like Pound would put a target on your back, both for enemies and sycophants. No wonder she was so eager to be friends with me; she wouldn’t carry the stigma of “rich girl” with someone who was new to town.

“Cool,” I said indifferently and climbed in the passenger side, smiling a little at the luxury of the car. She slid into the driver’s seat and turned the car on. It purred.

“So, you and Carey Drake, huh?” she asked with a knowing grin. I felt my cheeks burn and I shook my head. I had blushed more in the past two days than in the past four years.

“Nah, he’s just being nice.” I was actually twiddling my thumbs. Unbelievable.

“Oh yeah, Carey’s nice, alright. He’s nice to just about everyone.” She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. “I’ve never seen him be this nice.” Incredibly, my cheeks got hotter.

“Please! I’ve known him less than forty-eight hours.” I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “He is massively hot though.” We shared a giggle and I had a moment of wild happiness. “Anyway, what was that with Mark? He seemed pretty into you.” My dig was rewarded by seeing a rush of color stain V.J.’s cheeks.

“Yeah, well. We dated for a while freshman year. We were friends all through middle school, but after we dated we kind of stopped hanging out.” She looked downcast for a moment and then brightened. “But he did seem like he was into me, right?” I agreed with a smile and asked her to tell me more about him, anxious to keep the conversation away from me. By the time we reached my house, I knew enough about Mark that I may as well have downloaded him.

“This is nice,” V.J. said politely as we headed up the steps into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” I said, amused, knowing the house was as bland as could be. I opened the door and ushered her in, calling out to Dad and warning him we weren’t alone.

He emerged from the living room with a puzzled smile on his face.

“Hey, Dad. This is V.J., from school. She’s offered to show me around town tonight.” I gave him a significant look, indicating that we needed private speech before I left. He nodded and put his hand out to shake V.J.’s.

“Hi, Mr. Hannigan! It’s nice to meet you.” Someone had brought V.J. up right. Dad shot me a bemused grin and returned his attention to our guest.

“You too. It’s very nice of you to offer to show Liz around. What a friendly town,” he directed at me, eyebrows raised. I nodded and turned to V.J.

“Be right back. Help yourself to a drink or anything. I’m gonna go get my jacket.” She nodded and sat down at the table. I headed back to my room and began dumping my books out of my bag. After a moment I heard Dad excuse himself and then he strode into my room, closing the door behind him.

“Ok, hon, what is going on?  Yesterday you’re out with that Carey and now you’re hitting the town with her? This is very unlike you.”

I shrugged and ransacked my suitcase for a light jacket. “I don’t know, I thought I’d try something different. You know, I always keep to myself and never have any friends and it never really works out. Maybe this will work. I don’t know. She seems nice.”  I could hear the plaintive note in my voice and returned to my search for a jacket. I finally located a black, hip-length brushed-cotton jacket and shrugged it on.

When I turned to look at Dad, his face was impassive. I waited nervously for his response, knowing that he might want me to put an end to my budding friendships and cut our losses. He finally cleared his throat and spoke.

“You know, the only thing I’ve thought of these past few years is how to keep you safe, how to prevent anyone from hurting you or taking you away from me.” He opened his arms to me and beckoned. Surprised, I stepped forward and he wrapped me up in a tight hug. His voice was shaky as he continued. “You act so grown up and you make so many hard decisions every day; I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult all this is for you.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and I rested my head on his shoulder. “You do so well that sometimes I forget that you’re only sixteen and have never gotten the chance to
be
sixteen. Your childhood was stolen from you, and now you have to work all the time to keep people from getting too close.”

He sighed, his chest rising and falling in a staggered manner, as though he were trying to breathe after being underwater.

“I never questioned if that was wise. I just wanted you safe. But being safe doesn’t mean that you’re happy, and I want that for you too, even if it seems risky. So if you want to be friends with this V.J. and Carey, go ahead. I won’t tell you to be careful because I know you will be, and I know you’ll use your best judgment when it comes to how much you share with them.” He released me and looked down at me fiercely, his well-worn features taut with emotion. “Just promise you’ll keep me in the loop, and let me know if you’re in danger.”

Tears were streaming down my face and I nodded, unable to speak for the moment. Dad just gathered me in his arms for another hug.

“I love you, honey. More than anything.”

“Oh, Dad. I love you too. I’ll be careful, I swear.” My voice trembled and I was on the edge of losing it completely. “There’s other stuff I need to tell you, stuff I found out from Carey, but it can wait till later. I might even hear more from him by this evening.” We stepped apart, both pulling back from the emotional scene and reestablishing a safe distance.

“Alright honey. Call if you’re going to be late.” I grinned at this; it was such a normal thing for a Dad to say to his teenage daughter, and yet this was the first time he’d said it. He seemed to recognize the humor in the situation and chuckled.  “Right. Bye honey.”

I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder as I followed Dad back out to the kitchen where V.J. sat petting Koko, who was intoxicated by all the attention.

“What a beautiful kitty! Is he a Siamese?” I told her he was and said I was ready to go. She and Dad said a polite goodbye and he stood watching me with watery eyes as I followed my new friend to her car.

“Alright!” V.J. exclaimed as she backed out of the driveway. “Are you ready for the bright lights of Pound, West Virginia?” I laughed and nodded.

“Are you sure it’s not going to be too much for me?”

We laughed and she started the tour, which took all of fifteen minutes. There was very little that wasn’t residential; the strip mall that housed Mickey’s Diner was the busiest section of town. There was a park with the municipal pool, a bowling alley that had seen better days, and a chain grocery store. The nearest mall was thirty minutes away, along with Wal-Mart, a cinema, and other forms of nightlife. The nearest city, Washington D.C., was nearly three hours away. The saving grace for Pound was its picturesque beauty. For all the poverty and its run-down main street, it was hard to imagine a more beautiful place to live.

The town was nestled in a valley beneath three mountains and was lined by a river. Blanketing the hills, the trees were alight with the colors of autumn, making the town look as though it were ringed in fire as the sun sank behind the rounded peaks. The world was bathed in a hazy glow of red and purple. I caught my breath as we got out of the car at the diner and I took in the way the mountains seemed to embrace the town protectively, blocking harsh winds and encasing the valley in an exquisite bubble. I had been many places in the past few years, but I had never felt so surrounded and safe simply because of the landscape.

“It really is beautiful here,” I said under my breath. V.J. gave me a smile full of pride.

“Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s prettier than a lot of places.”

She led the way into the diner and we took a seat, ordering hamburgers and milkshakes for dinner. I was anxious to try a shake since I’d missed my opportunity the day before. I was not disappointed, agreeing with V.J. that it was the best I’d had. Our meals were delivered in short order, and we were chatting easily over our fries when I saw them.

Two federal agents had entered the diner and were waiting to be seated. I knew they were Feds by the identical suits they wore, the standard issue black sunglasses tucked into their jacket pockets, and the black Suburban parked outside. Honestly, you’d think the federal government could be a little less predictable.

“Anyway, so then I said that…uh, Liz? Earth to Liz?” I snapped back to attention and realized that V.J. had been talking for the past few minutes while I had been watching the Feds.

“Sorry, I thought I saw someone,” I mumbled. “Excuse me a sec.”

I got up and walked straight toward the agents, acting as though I were heading for the bathroom. As I walked, I removed my left glove and took a deep breath, preparing for the shock I was about to force on myself. I swept past one of the agents, keeping my head down, and let the back of my hand brush against his, muttering apologies. He barely glanced at me as the paralysis took over and my mind was flooded with everything he had ever known; just as suddenly the moment was over and I moved on, stuffing my hand back in the glove as I crashed into the ladies’ room.

My abrupt entrance startled a hassled looking woman busy trying to convince two small children that washing their hands wouldn’t kill them. I muttered an apology and slipped past her to an empty stall and shut the door. After a moment, I heard the triumphant shouts of the semi-clean children as they dashed out the door, mother close on their heels. The toilet next to my stall flushed and I heard the faucet come on again, the inevitable swearing as some unlucky woman found that the children had used up all the towels, and finally there was silence. I emerged from my stall, checked to make sure I was alone, and then locked the bathroom door, ensuring that I would have a moment of peace to run through what I had just ascertained from the federal agent I had downloaded.

Agent Nick Thrasher had been working in the violent crimes division for a little over a year and had been following a string of execution-style murders that were linked to my good friend Eddie Fitz.  I ignored all his personal data and concentrated solely on the information about Fitz, the Coalition, and anything else that might be linked to me. Thankfully, there was absolutely nothing about me in the agent’s head, confirming my suspicion that I was only on the radar of a specialized division in the Bureau. Thrasher knew nothing about the Coalition either, and I found I could breathe a little easier.

From what I gathered, I knew that Thrasher was extremely frustrated with Fitz; apparently they had a tip that a major drug deal was going on in the general area and because of evidence that Fitz had in the past worked with the Outlaw biker gang involved, they were sure he was there to do a hit. However, Fitz was denying any knowledge of the deal, and in fact, claimed to have no idea what he was doing in Pound. While it was standard operating procedure for these guys to deny, deny, deny, Thrasher felt pretty sure that Fitz was telling the truth, at least as far as he knew. At this point, he was more interested in what had happened to the drugs, and the people who had delivered them. Thrasher, and his partner Special Agent James Carson, were exploring Fitz’s involvement with the gang, hoping to broaden their investigation to include certain members. A real coup for a newbie.

I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling pretty confident that I was safe. As long as Fitz’s memory stayed wiped there was no reason for me to come to the attention of the Feds or the Coalition. In fact, I was rooting for the Feds; as a concerned citizen, I’d love to see drugs off the street and a murderer safely in jail.

I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. Thanks to my new, intimate knowledge of Fitz’s business dealings, I knew precisely where the drugs were, along with two murdered bikers.

I could feel my pulse speed as I considered the possibilities. If I could somehow get this information to Agent Thrasher, it might keep the agents busy with the murders and not questioning why Fitz had the memories of a rapist from New York. That was the sort of discrepancy that could lead to problems for me.

Of course, the rub in all this was that I had never successfully imparted information to the authorities without putting myself in danger.  In the early days after my accident, before I learned that it wasn’t just the Coalition who would be interested in me, I had bumped into a number of criminals and had naively reported the information to the local authorities, seeing myself as a sort of superhero. The reality was that no one believed me. When they did, they thought I was psychic and treated me as though I were the dangerous one. They say witch-hunting went out of style hundreds of years ago, but I can testify to the fact that the sentiment is still alive and well.

After a frustrating and distinctly unfruitful period, Dad and I agreed that I should just stay out of it and keep information to myself unless it might save someone’s life. That’s how the FBI found out about me.

Two years ago, Dad and I were living in D.C., and I took the metro to school every day. It was on my way home that I inadvertently bumped heads with a man as we both reached for the same standing pole. I had nearly fallen to my knees as the sick nightmare of his mind writhed through my own. He had stared right through me, the whites of his eyes too large, too overwhelming for the slate-grey of his corneas, giving him the look of a corpse. I remember a courteous Hispanic gentleman offering me his seat, telling me I looked pale, while I clung to the pole as if it were my last link with reality, with a world not bathed in blood. I don’t think I breathed until the man with the dead eyes got off the train. I rode the rest of the way home in a haze of terror and nausea, his evil swirling through my mind like a poisonous fog.