Dan frowned. Looked angry that nothing came to mind. “Lots of people hate each other quietly. For years. Plan their revenge. Quiet is best for revenge. Lots of people know that.”
That wasn’t creepy.
“One last thing, Mr. Perkin. I’d like you to put together a list of people who you think would want you harmed. People who would want to blow up your property.”
“It’s a short list. Chris Lagon.”
“No one else? No one at all?”
“Nope. That’s it. He’s your man. Find him, and you’ll find your killer and your bomber. I promise you that, officer.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
“Bring Chris Lagon to justice,” Dan said. “For the good of Ordinary.”
“I’ll do my job, Mr. Perkin. Don’t you worry about that.”
I patted the doorframe and moved back. He started his car and drove away. He checked the rearview mirror an awful lot, his hand reaching up to stroke the bill of the hat again. Nervous about what I was going to do with that information, or maybe he had just developed a new paranoia since the explosion.
Not that I would blame him.
My gut said something was going on with him. Although he’d done nothing but talk, there was more he wasn’t saying. More he didn’t want me to know.
Who did Dan Perkin have to protect in this? Who did he even care about enough to protect? What wouldn’t he want me to know?
“Any breakthroughs?” Ryder asked.
“Dan doesn’t like Chris. Newsflash.”
He grinned, and I smiled right back. The world just took on a lot more sunshine when he smiled.
“So about last night,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows.
“I was thinking maybe we could try that again tonight. The dinner part. My place?”
There was no reason for me not to—other than a killer I needed to track down and a power I needed to give to some poor, unsuspecting mortal. Somewhere in the middle of all that I should have time for a life—my life—right?
Not really. If I failed to give the power over to someone, the power would kill me, injure my sisters, then turn on the town. Flirting over breadsticks while trying to outrun a ticking time bomb wasn’t the kind of multitasking I was made for.
Or was it? Dad had loved Mom through the years of carrying the bridge responsibility. He’d handled several power handovers and never missed one of our dance lessons or volleyball games. When he’d remarried, he’d had the time to love Kirali too.
How did you make it all look so easy, Dad?
“Or we could break up a fight,” he suggested. “See a sappy teen movie without explosions, go on a stakeout.”
“What?” That was when I realized I’d been standing there silent, probably scowling at him like a hemorrhoidal lunch lady.
No wonder I never got any dates. I had zero moves.
“Tomorrow?” I blurted. There. That felt better. Also a little embarrassing.
He tipped his head. It felt like forever before he answered. “I could do something, maybe.”
“Dinner?”
He shook his head. “Meeting with a client.”
