“That’s just because they’re suggestible,” he said. But I’d introduced enough doubt that he let the subject drop.
Where to put everyone became our most pressing concern. We triaged. Sarah needed privacy and a soft landing, so she got the bed. Boswell insisted he was “fine,” so he got the couch. The packaging on the new air mattress claimed it could hold our combined weight—but mainly it meant Jacob and I could sleep central, halfway between both of them, and head off any midnight wanderings.
Even with the so-called “plush” surface and a pile of blankets, it felt like trying to sleep on a balloon. Jacob did his best to stay still, but every time he so much as shifted, the mattress bounced me wide awake. But Boswell had no such problems, if his snores were anything to go by.
“So,” Jacob finally ventured, when it was clear neither of us would get any shut-eye. “Things got…complicated today.”
Had he heard about me using the SPECs behind his back? I didn’t see how. He’d been busy with Sarah ever since he took charge of her. “Yeah, about that—”
“I just need you to remember I’m in your corner.”
Good thing I hadn’t mentioned burning through all my Florida Water and salt and blaming him for not stocking my kit. “Always,” I assured him. And as Posy Simon hopped up, gently bouncing the balloon mattress with her careful cat steps to settle in a warm ball between us, I wondered how to explain the subtle body theory without admitting to using the very technology I’d insisted Jacob avoid. Yes, he was canny. And yes, he’d flown under the radar all these years without National being any the wiser as to how Stiff his Stiffness truly was. But all it would take was one slip-up…and the abduction scenario I’d dreamt up would become a reality.
I must have slept then, because the next thing I knew, I heard a floorboard creak. The sound was amplified through the air mattress, with my ear pressed right against it with my pillow toppled off the back. I snapped awake to a gray pre-dawn only to find Boswell squatting on the floor beside the air mattress box. The box was open and lying on its side, and Boswell was struggling to open a can of tuna with our spare can opener. It needed throwing out, but neither Jacob nor I ever seemed to get around to it. But Boswell didn’t know that, and he gamely twisted away at the crank as the can went round and round without actually opening.
“You’re not taking the cat,” I said.
Boswell flinched so hard he dropped the tuna, which rolled away. Tuna juice dribbled from the single puncture hole he’d managed to make with the bad opener. Posy Simon, watching the whole thing from her post on Jacob’s pillow, was unimpressed.
“Sarah abandoned him…her…anyway, I don’t think it’s fair to anyone. I can give Simone a stable home, once I find a new apartment. I was told the FPMP has housing services.”
Ugh. What other promises had they made when he went to sign his papers?
“Pretty soon I’ll be set for a good long while. In a non-haunted apartment. Hold on, are you the one that’s supposed to make sure it’s clean?” He said this as if he didn’t think I was capable of cleaning so much as a toilet.
“Likely. So you don’t want to get on my bad side.”
Boswell snorted. “As if you have a good one. But as to the matter at hand—you’ll note Simone didn’t go sleep with Sarah.”
“The cat didn’t sleep with you, either.”
Boswell waved that away. “Animals are far more sensitive than people. Simone probably sensed that Sarah is missing her emotion fragment.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sarah demanded.
We both flinched as she glared down at us from the top of the stairs.
“It’s just a theory,” I said lamely.
Jacob shoved off the covers and sat up with a groan. Posy Simon burrowed under the blankets to take advantage of thewarm spot he’d left behind. “I think you need to start at the beginning,” Jacob said.
And so, we put on a full pot of coffee and gathered around the dining room table. I tried to be as tactful as I could, hoping not to frighten Sarah. But she just listened impassively.
Probably because she’d left her fear behind in that bedroom.
That must’ve been why Evelyn had repeatedly checked on me to make sure I was okay. Not because I was in over my head—but because she kept picking up on waves of terror when I was the only other one in the room. The only one she could see, anyhow.
“Can you even remember the incident where you ended up in the closet?” I asked.
“Of course I can remember it. Zack knocked two of my teeth loose and my head was ringing for a week.” Tough words. But she’d delivered them with a sort of bland detachment, like she was narrating a scene from a movie.
And then Boswell chimed in. “You see? She doesn’t need that fragment. And neither do I.”
Jacob looked to me for an explanation.
“Boswell thinks he’s being followed by his own repeater.”
“How else do you explain the constant surveillance?” Boswell demanded.
