“Hm.”
Marcus studied her profile for a moment, then looked back out the window.They were parked opposite a small bakery on a quiet street in Harlem, one of the few places within range that wasn’t crawling with uniforms or cameras.The day had been long—too long—and the city, for once, felt like it was holding its breath.
“You sure you don’t want something sweet?”Marcus asked.“You’ve been running on caffeine and nerves since breakfast.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.”He took a slow sip of his own drink.“You want to call your mom?”
Kate nodded.“Yeah.I should.”
She took out her phone, thumb hovering over the screen, before pressing dial.The call connected almost immediately.
“Kate, darling,” Catherine Valentine’s voice came, warm and calm as ever.“You sound tired.”
“I’m fine,” Kate said automatically.“Just checking in.”
“Tell me I’m not still grounded.”
“Sorry.”She tried to keep her tone light.“We’ve got to be certain there’s no threat.But try not to worry.”
“I never worry until I have to,” Catherine said, and Kate could hear the smile in her voice.“I’m perfectly safe here.The cops downstairs keep checking if I need anything.I said unless one of them’s qualified to teach a graduate seminar on discourse analysis, they’re not much use.”
Kate laughed softly.“I’ll send you Torres.She could probably manage it.”
“How’s Marcus?”
“Still alive,” Kate said, glancing at him.
Marcus gave a wave.
Catherine chuckled.“I’ll let you go, then.But promise me you’ll rest tonight.Both of you.”
“We’ll try.”
When Kate ended the call, she stared at the blank screen for a moment longer than necessary.Marcus noticed.
“She okay?”
“She’s… she’s Mom.If she was scared, there’s no way she’d let me see it.Probably grading essays while watching the news feed for updates about me.”
He smiled faintly.“Sounds like her.”He took a breath.“Earlier on today… it looked like you were having a tough call with her.”
She looked at him.“Yes.I was.”
"Okay.And is everything better now?You don't have to tell me."
"Well," she said.She told him about the conversation she'd had with her mother.Her precocious awareness of the past tragedy and the long shadow it cast, right down to now.Jeanette.There was more she wanted to say; so much more, about the journal, half-crazed, half-prescient.But she left it where it was.She honestly doubted whether Marcus would believe her.
As it was, he listened and was quiet for a long time.And then, eventually, he said, "There's no corner, is there?No corner of your life that Cox doesn't want to get into and exploit.Not just your life.Even your Mom's.And that makes me sick.Really sick."
At that point, she felt something unlock inside.He would believe her, because he always did.Kate reached across and squeezed his arm, gratefully.“It’s weird,” she said quietly.“All today, running around those dead sites, I kept thinking… Cox would want this.He’d want me burning hours, chasing shadows.It’s exactly the kind of game he’d play.”
Marcus didn’t answer immediately.“But so’s targeting your Mom,” he said, eventually.“And so ispretendingto target your Mom.I was going to say he’s like the little boy who cried wolf, but Cox is the opposite.We have to take him seriously, every time, because sometimes, he really kills people.”
There was a tense silence.
“I don’t think he’ll hurt your Mom, though.”
