Then I remembered: Carl’s on leave. And I brought this on myself.
Jacob didn’t appear to notice as he veered around me, parked himself in Carl’s spot, and logged in. He made no move whatsoever to shift the pile of paperwork to his desk. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge its existence.
What was I supposed to say—I generally let Carl do all the heavy lifting? Hardly. I pulled my chair out, peeled a random file off the top of the stack, and flipped it open.
Might as well start somewhere, I figured. But then I noticed Jacob, absorbed in his monitor, had made no move to grab the next file. “Your investigative skills might come in handy,” I remarked.
Jacob gave a small flinch. “Sorry, for what?”
I cut my eyes meaningfully to the pile. “The ‘woman in the bedroom’. The one whose staring made Boswell come to the attention of the FPMP.” AKA, the subject of our whole investigation, which I valiantly refrained from pointing out.
Jacob grabbed a file, and we got to reading. I settled in to start chewing through reports. But unlike Carl, Jacob likes to process his thoughts out loud. “Ghosts fade, right? The apartments were built in the thirties, nothing was there prior, and Records found no recorded murders in the last century, so there’s probably nothing old.”
No. Not like the raft of ancient dead I dredged up when I was drugged with experimental psyactives.
Jacob went on. “Boswell was only there for a short while. So, a conversation with the previous tenant—” he checked the file. “Zachary Sledge. That’s our best bet. See what he has to say about the place.”
If Sledge wasn’t a medium, likely nothing much. Still, he was the next logical step, since that we might be dealing with a weird glare or a drafty window. (I didn’t really believe that, given the repeater at the bus stop. But I had to rule it out.) I went to grab my mobile exorcism kit from the supply closet, just in case. It’swhat Carl would have done, and Jacob showed no signs of taking the initiative.
Jacob watched me unlock the closet door and said, almost offhand, “You don’t need me to tag along while you’re interviewing the former tenant, do you?”
I paused with my hand on the kit. “A second set of ears never hurts.”
“But there’s all this paperwork to go through. I figured, divide and conquer.”
Hard to argue with that. Jacob was the one who’d be more likely to spot the needle in the haystack if there happened to be one waiting there to stick us. Plus, let’s face it. I would rather be out there actually doing something than sitting around reading reports. But…so would he.
I slid him a look. He was helpfully thumbing through files.
A home-cooked dinner and an impromptu BJ were hardly enough to ping my suspicions. Offering to stay behind and catch up on the paperwork, though? Definitely not Jacob’s style.
“Okay, what gives?” I asked. He glanced up from his files, all innocence. “Since when do you turn down fieldwork to push paper?”
“I’m just trying to help you resolve the case.”
“Uh huh.”
“Unless you thought you’d need backup to go and talk to…” he crooked his head to double check Sledge’s file. “A mailman.”
The possibility that Zachary Sledge had noticed something unusual in the apartment was slim at best. According to his file,he was an NP—government workers are tested for ability, even at the post office. But though I had no expectations he’d give me anything worthwhile, I was still accustomed to having another set of eyes and ears. Even if those eyes and ears were Carl’s, and I was pretty sure they were judging me.
I checked Sledge’s route. It wasn’t far from his old apartment. Maybe I could swing by again and give it one more look…with help from Mood Blaster. And the scientist who’d invented it. “You’re staying put? Fine. I’ll see if Evelyn wants to ride shotgun.”
I hoisted the kit bag onto my shoulder and went to grab Sledge’s file…only to find Jacob’s steepled fingers pinning the manila folder to the desk. “Did youwantme to come along? It’s your investigation—just say the word.”
I didn’t know what the hell I wanted. Dare I say it was a return of my old partner, Carl? At least I knew when Carl was annoyed…which was pretty much, always. But as for Jacob, whenever we butted heads, he was uncannily good at making me feel like I was somehow in the wrong without ever coming right out and saying so. “Stay at the office and read your files. If anyone can spot a wonky pattern, it’s you.”
I tracked down Evelyn in the yoga studio. She and Bethany were both barefoot, curled up on opposite ends of a tasteful beige sofa, sipping tea. I’m told the FPMP tea is as good as its coffee, though it tastes like lawn clippings to me. But the women seemed to be enjoying it. And they both seemed genuinely pleased to see me.
“How are your hamstrings feeling?” Bethany asked. “The extra session didn’t aggravate any old issues, did it?”
“My legs are fine, thanks.”
Evelyn laughed easily. “More than I can say. Hopefully it’s agoodkind of ouch.”
“Actually, I’m here with a non-yoga-related request,” I said. “I was hoping to borrow Evelyn.”
“If Bethany doesn’t mind,” she said.
