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Jesse followed me to the door. Standing behind me, he put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll miss you at the dance tonight,” he whispered in my ear.

I turned my head and looked at him. “I’m so sorry I can’t go.”

He glanced back—to Becca at the table and Trevor in the corner—then turned me to face him. “Will there ever be a time that we won’t have to sneak around?”

He couldn’t know what he did to me when he stood so close. I closed my eyes, feeling his sweet breath caressing my cheek. Sensing his hurt. “I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice cracking. Even though I really did. If we did have a future, it would require secrecy. I opened the door, stepped onto the porch, and wondered if I’d ever get used to the sense of loss that came with walking away from him.

I began to head back to my dreary bedroom but stopped near the backyard gate. I decided that if I were going to find a way to stay off of that transport, I’d have to stop running away from the things that frightened me. I’d never be able to do the scariest of all—even with pressure from Jesse—and tell my parents about him. But I could at the very least sit by the pool. I’d just have to get past those images in my mind of Becca floating in the water.

Without bothering to change clothes, I went through the gate and stretched out on my favorite lounge chair beneath the palm tree. I sat still, listening, until I heard the sound of Jesse saying goodbye at Becca’s house. When he was too far away to be a distraction, I closed my eyes and reopened the files. There just had to be some significance, some reason they were sent to Geery.

There were three news stories. One was about a little boy run over by a car. Another was a woman who committed suicide. The last was about a murdered teenager. All three happened in different states. None of the names were familiar or similar to the others. There didn’t appear to be any connection whatsoever. I went through each one several times to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

The agency file was a portion of the record of activities kept by Rameer on Dr. Tom. When I’d reviewed them the first time—half-sleeping—I hadn’t found any differences between this file and the official one. This time, however, I noticed an entry about a drive Dr. Tom took that wasn’t in the original document. I continued my slow and laborious search—missing my UNID desperately—and eventually found another.

“Do you mind if I join you?” It was Dad, carrying two salad bowls. “Thought you could use a little lunch.” He sat on the edge of the lounge chair next to me. “It’s nice out here.”

I smiled politely and took one of the bowls.

He leaned back in the seat, crossing one foot over the other. “This is the first time you’ve been out here since the accident isn’t it?”

I nodded. I wanted to get back to my review but figured it would be smart to carry on an actual conversation, just so he wouldn’t worry. “Did you know they sew their wounds the same way they sew their clothes? With actual thread?” I asked.

“Yes, I sincerely hope none of us are injured to that extent while we’re here.” He studied me for a moment. “And how are you doing?”

“Hanging on.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

He turned his gaze to the sparkling surface of the swimming pool and started to eat his salad.

I decided it was safe to continue my search. We sat in silence until I eventually found a third variation in the files.

“Returning to Nreim really won’t be horrible.” Dad broke into my thoughts.

I paused and looked at him. “Sure.” I knew Dad had more on his mind, but when he didn’t respond I returned once again to my search. He’d get to it in his own time. The first news story happened the day after Dr. Tom’s first drive. I decided I should put them all in order by date. Maybe there would be a pattern…

“Mira,” Dad said. “I witnessed that human male embracing you.”

“What?” I looked up from my salad. My mind was, literally, on the files. And I was finally on to something.

“The adolescent human male. Yesterday. I’m certain you know to what I’m referring.” He looked straight ahead, clearly uncomfortable with the current topic of conversation.

I sighed and closed the files. “Did you also see me push him away?”

“Yes. I witnessed that as well.”

“It’s like I told you yesterday. I was upset about Lacey. He was just trying to comfort me.”

“Are you frequently embraced by males?”

“No!” I tried to smile, to keep the mood light. “They make my eyes water. I usually stay as far away as possible.” The laugh I attempted was stiff and unnatural. I tried to push the proper emotions forward but was too flustered. I wasn’t even sure which emotion would be best. That I was upset? Hopefully that would do.

“I’m concerned, Mira. Physical contact is not just forbidden…it can be very dangerous.”

“I understand.” I hesitated. “Did you tell Mom?”

“I had no choice.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is concerned as well.”

Of course. It was almost impossible for linkmates to keep secrets from one another. Everyone knew that. “So what are you going to do?”

“What do you believe we should do?”

I considered telling him about the files, so he’d know he shouldn’t impose even more restrictions. But if the files were legitimate, there had to be a reason they didn’t go through official channels. And Dad couldn’t possibly keep anything this big from Mom—who
was
the official channel. “Please just trust me,” I said. “I’m being as cautious as possible.”

Dad went back to eating his salad. I watched him for a moment. When I felt satisfied that he wasn’t about to make some ridiculous new rule, I opened the files again. I went directly to the news stories, placing them in sequence by date. The pattern was only slightly altered. The third news story occurred on the same day as Dr. Tom’s final road trip instead of the following day.

My stomach dipped at the implications of what I was thinking. This was
the
Dr. Tom Stone. Even with what Mom had told me about their whacked personality profiles, I had a hard time believing something like this. Maybe it was all coincidence. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with these accidents. But then why were the files sent to Geery? I stood up and took Dad’s empty salad bowl from his lap.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

I went into the kitchen without answering. I had to know more. But could almost feel a literal hand of fear clutching at me—keeping me from pursuing this. I sat at the kitchen table. I saw Dad watching through the window and tried to act natural. The files held a story. I was sure of it. I just had to be brave enough to figure out what that story was.

Dad sat back down in the lounge chair. He would never sit there for his own pleasure. He was obviously giving me space. Which I appreciated. With the back of his head in my line of sight, I opened the six files and summarized each one.

Twenty years ago, two weeks after Dr. Tom’s arrival on Earth, Dr. Tom took a drive from the downtown LA USC campus to the USC Health Sciences campus, seven miles away. Rameer reported the drive. But it was deleted from the official file.

The next day a three-year-old boy in Los Angeles was run over in his driveway by his mother. She told the police that she accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake. The boy survived but was still in the hospital at the time the article was written.

One week later Rameer reported another drive to the Health Sciences Campus. This time Rameer tried unsuccessfully to follow Dr. Tom into the hospital. Once again, the event was not in the official record.

The next day a woman in Michigan overdosed on sleeping pills. Her family was baffled. She had no record of depression or mental illness. She didn’t survive.

Two weeks later Dr. Tom took a drive to a medical clinic in Pasadena. Once again the report was only in the unofficial record.

That same day a teenager in Nevada stabbed another teen. And once again both families were shocked. Neither teen had a history of violence or substance abuse.

My gaze moved from the back of Dad’s head to the gleaming water of the pool. All I could see before my eyes was the image of Becca floating in the water, blood spreading out from her head.

 CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

I cradled my head in my folded arms on the table. I knew these files meant something. But what did I really have? It was still a random string of events. There was no evidence that any of it was connected. The only things suspicious were the secretive way the file had been delivered, and that the official document had been altered. But then, even that wasn’t a fact. For all I knew the new document was the forgery.

I had to find a connection between the people in the news stories and either the Stones or Rameer. It would take me hours to review the files, but Geery could do it in seconds. I was tempted to send an urgent stream. But Geery would have been in bed for just under an hour, and I’d already asked for too many favors.

I began to form a stream that wouldn’t disturb Geery until morning when I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped. I sat up. “Dad.” I exhaled.

“Mirishka. What is it? What are you not telling me?”

I didn’t turn around. “Not now Dad. Please.”

He squeezed my shoulders then went to the sink to wash our salad bowls. I watched him for a moment before sending out the stream. I then tried to help Dad with the dishes but couldn’t tolerate staring at the pool through the window. I’d bet my life that Dr. Tom was somehow responsible for that accident too. I just wished I knew why. Or how to prove it. Or how I could keep it from happening again.

I went to my room where Dad couldn’t see me and sent off a series of text messages to Lacey, Serena and Camille. Becca’s brother Trevor’s number was still there from the beach, so I sent one to him. All the messages said the same thing: >>What’s up?

To Jesse I wrote: >>Missing you.

His response was almost instant. >>Same here. How’s your prison cell?

I replied: >>The warden’s treating me well. Everything okay?

>>Except that you’re not here.

>>Let me know if anything weird happens. K?

>>Like what?

>>Just anything.

I was probably being paranoid. A random string of events from twenty years ago did not mean my friends were in danger. I paced the room, watched for the other responses, and started my own slow and sluggish search of the files. The text responses from Serena and Camille—when they finally came—were silly and giddy. Both were busy dressing for the dance. Trevor said he was playing a game called Zelda. I asked about Becca. An hour had passed with no response from Lacey. I pushed the number two button on my phone. I reasoned this was one phone call I could defend if Dad overheard.

“Hello?” Lacey’s voice was more subdued than I had ever heard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just getting ready for the dance.” She didn’t sound giddy or silly like I would have expected before yesterday’s incident. But she did sound at peace.

I sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re still going.”

“Yeah. I actually feel better than I have in a long time.”

“Really? How come?”

 “I’m not sure. But I haven’t been myself lately. It’s like…all I can think about is stupid boys.”

I chuckled. “That doesn’t sound so weird. You’re seventeen.”

“Yeah. But…it’s stranger than it sounds.”

I sat up tall. “Really? Like how?”

“It’s not a normal fixation. I mean it’s like…seriously all I can think about.”

“Yeah?” I drummed the bedspread with my fingers, my mind racing. “Do you remember when it started?”

“I don’t know. The beginning of the year I guess.”

I switched my phone to the other ear. “Can you remember exactly?”

“I…I haven’t really thought about it. I guess…when I first saw Everett. He was, like, my whole world. Then all of a sudden it was all about Nick.”

“And it didn’t feel natural?”

“No. That’s not like me at all. And now my grades stink. My parents are mad at me. My friends hate me.”

I was quiet, thinking.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Lacey added.

“No. Not at all. And your friends don’t hate you. Not me at least.”

“There’s something else.”

“Yeah?” I prompted.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I swear.”

“When I was in the locker room, it felt like those boys weren’t in control of themselves either. Like someone—or something—was making them do it.”

I stood up, taking long strides across the room, and wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. “Lacey…” I hesitated. “Can I…ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I stopped pacing. “Before this happened, had you ever thought you could sense things? Like what other people are feeling before they tell you? Or maybe what they’re going to say?”

I could hear Lacey breathing softly. “If I say yes, will you think I’m nuts?”

“No. I think it’s cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Really. Back where I come from that’s considered really normal.”

“In New Mexico?”

“Yeah, New Mexico. At my old school at least. It was kind of a…unique place.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Will you let me know if you feel that way again?”

“Sure. Thanks for not laughing.”

After the call I sat on my bed and leaned against the back board to think. I had already figured out that Jesse was the kind of person Dad had described. The kind that would have thrived on my planet but felt like an outcast here. I hadn’t considered that Lacey was one too. Maybe that’s why we were drawn to one another. Maybe Becca as well.

But it was what she said about the football players not being in control that really caught my interest. Maybe the Stones were manipulating all these people: Lacey, those football players, Becca, Jesse, maybe even Everett. Anyone susceptible to hearing their suggestions.

I began a new search, this time starting on the first day of school, Dr. Tom’s class. I watched each hour of every day of both teachers’ classes, looking for any sign of non-verbal communication with students. Hours passed, spread out on my bed, watching class after class in real time, sometimes even slower. It became obvious that if the Stones were sending streamed messages to students they were being very subtle about it.