“Which time?”
Jericho gave Atticus another apprehensive look before peering back at Benny. “They’ve taken you more than once?”
Benny nodded. “The first time they took me, they brought me right back. But the second time they kept me for…longer.”
“How long, Benny? A day? A week?”
Benny blinked. “When I went in, Bush was president. When I came back, he wasn’t. That’s all I know.”
Jericho’s gaze jerked to Atticus. That couldn’t be a coincidence. What the fuck was going on? “Benny, do you remember where they took you? Abducted you?”
He turned to look off in the distance, even though Atticus knew he couldn’t see whatever it was he was looking at. “I was sleeping in the alley behind Melvin’s Deli. Over there.” He pointed towards a tall building in the distance.
“Benny!”
The old man startled, head snapping towards the voice, raising a hand in greeting. “That’s Sister Agnes. She brings us food every Saturday.”
A woman with a blunt blonde bob cut and yoga pants approached them with a smile that would freeze lava. “Benny, dear, there’s food over there by the fire. I don’t want you to miss out.”
Benny gave them one final look before returning his attention to her. “Is there bacon today?”
“Of course,” she said brightly, wrapping an arm around Benny and guiding him away from them. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”
As she started to walk away with Benny, Jericho called out, “What church are you affiliated with, Sister?”
“No church. I work with a local non-profit.”
“Oh? Which one? My father works with many,” Atticus asked.
Once more, that slippery smile slid across her unmarred face. “Helping Hearts. We provide meals and other services for the…disenfranchised.”
Atticus nodded. “How nice.”
“Have a blessed day,” she said.
“Yeah, you too,” Jericho managed.
Sister Agnes tracked them all the way out. Once they were back at the truck, Jericho turned to him. “What the fuck was that? That was weird, right?”
“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say,” Atticus said.
“Do you think the same people who did that to Benny could have done it to Mercy?”
Atticus nodded. “It’s possible. He said that happened to him somewhere around twelve years ago, which doesn’t really make sense. That scar was from an open nephrectomy. We stopped using that technique in the nineties. Whoever did that surgery wasn’t an amateur, but he certainly is practicing trench medicine. I think we need to head back to my father’s place and regroup, have Calliope do some research in real time.”
Jericho nodded, looking spooked. “Yeah, okay.”
Atticus placed a hand on Jericho’s shoulder without thought. “We’re going to figure this out.”
* * *
Atticus was relieved to see his father looking much more put together than the last time they’d seen him. He was still dressed fairly casually in jeans and a zip-neck cardigan, but he was clean shaven and sober. Well, sober enough. He nodded towards Jericho in a hello, escorting them down into the war room.
The twins were waiting, their clothing different but weirdly complimentary, like they’d coordinated their outfits. But that was the thing about the twins. They could speak to each other without words, could convey paragraphs with a look.
They were mirror twins, their features asymmetric. Asa’s left eyebrow was slightly higher, but on Avi it was the right. Asa had a birthmark on his right hand, Avi on his left. But when they faced each other, it was as if looking at their own reflection in the mirror. They were effectively the same person and they worked as a unit.
Thomas fell into a chair with a groan before hitting the button that connected them to Calliope.
