Rob Thurman - All Seeing Eye

His foot stopped the door with a skill I found it hard to believe that college professors, even only professed part-time ones, possessed. “I wanted to do this the easy way, the civilized way,” he offered with grim regret. “I hope you try to keep that in mind.”

For a moment, I had no idea what he was talking about. The easy way? He might be quick with the old salesman foot, but did he honestly think he was up to pissing me off? I’d learned more when I was a teenager than the superiority of quilts over scratchy blankets or how to spot a mark with one eye and the cops with the other. I could take care of myself. More to the point, I could take care of some dickhead who mistakenly thought I was caught between his foot and an apple pie. I might not want to run into him in an alley, but I would take care of business if I did. “You know, Dr. Chang, you’ve been so careful to avoid contaminating your precious study.” I balled my hand into a fist and bared my teeth in a humorless grin. “What a shame, because I’m about to get one helluva reading off your face.”

“Maybe you should try reading this instead.” Not precisely impressed with the threat, he held up a picture. It was rain-splattered in the dim light that spilled from the doorway, but I made it out. A face nearly as familiar to me as my own.

Glory.

My sister. The numbers she held up beneath a blindingly bright smile were almost a fashion statement for her, she wore them so often. With her perfect cheekbones, hair the color of a handful of new pennies, and eyes the unfathomable green of well water, she looked more like a beauty contestant than a criminal. Hometown girl done good in the big Peach Queen festival, or ex-high school cheerleader who was as fresh and sweet as the day she graduated.

But Glory hadn’t finished high school, leaving when she was fifteen some six years ago. The school board frowns on throwing your rival down on the bathroom floor, tying her up with her own bra, then cutting off all her hair with a switchblade. It wasn’t the first time my sister had terrorized her classmates, I would guess, not that I was around to know for sure. However, this time, she was caught in the act by a teacher, a female one. Otherwise, she would’ve wriggled her way out of it with an innocent fluttering of lashes and a not-so-innocent twitch of her ass. Glory had never been quite… right. Even at two and three, she made her own rules and flatly refused any others. Self-centered was part of it. Glory just didn’t connect with people around her much. Only one person could ever reach her: her sister. And Tess had been gone nearly as long as Glory had been alive.

I know she never listened a damn to me. Before or after. And by the time I was old enough to give what would probably be a futile try for custody, she was gone. Her foster family, and I use the word “family” in the Charles Manson sense, had disappeared with her and several other children. The state does such a great job at those background checks, don’t they? Despite years of searching and private detectives, she was the one who found me. That had been about three years ago. She’d asked for money and then robbed me blind when I was in the bathroom and took off. There hadn’t been any sisterly hugs offered, either, or touching of any kind. Not a hand on an arm. Nothing. Her personal space made mine look normal.

I’d only seen her a couple of times since… and on those occasions, I gave her money for a hotel. I was nothing if not a fast learner. Still, in the end, she was my sister. My last family, no matter how sociopathic. And she was a sincere sociopath, through and through. What to do about that when it slammed up against sibling loyalty, I didn’t have a goddamn idea, not one.

Attached to the photo was a stapled police report. I didn’t bother to read it, letting it all flutter down to fall half in, half out of the door. Balanced on the threshold, it rapidly turned to a soggy mess. “It’s a mug shot, big deal,” I said, bored. “She practically sends them out as Christmas cards.”

“Well, maybe that’s true.” He bent, picked up the papers, and tried to shake them out. “But has she ever been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon before… on a police officer? Or been nine months’ pregnant while she sits and waits for trial? Georgia has a three-strikes law, Mr. Eye. Glory has two other violent felonies on her record in addition to this one. She has the potential to go away for life without parole.”

For a split second, I thought that might be the best place for her, but then there was the baby. And the guilt. If I’d found her sooner rather than her finding me, maybe she wouldn’t be this way. Or at least not this bad. I’d done all I could, but all I could had fallen damn fucking short.

“What about the father?” I asked without emotion.

“Apparently, on that subject your sister isn’t talking.”

Or didn’t know. The baby would go to Family Services. What wouldn’t happen is giving it to me, a self-employed, unsocial psychic. I was nothing but a con man from their point of view, a single male ripoff artist, not precisely parent material. They wouldn’t be flashing their panties in joy to give the child to me, only relative or not. I wasn’t saying that the kid might not be better off adopted by a nice, carefully screened couple than being raised by Glory or me. Unfortunately, my sister’s life had shown that careful and screening didn’t always go hand in hand when it came to Family Services. They had taken a stubborn, wild, and defiant little girl and given her to people who had done… things to her. Those things had turned her into something predatory and treacherous to the world around her. They’d taken a wolf out of the wild and turned it into a man-eater.

I hadn’t been able to save her then, and it was too late to save her now, but maybe I could keep her out of jail. As for the baby… I grimaced to myself. Something would have to be done. If only I could buy the time to do it. I wasn’t surprised that Glory hadn’t called me for help. She had the unshakable conviction that she could control any situation, and until now, she’d been right. Given enough time, that still might hold true, but if so, it would probably involve a hospital guard beaten half to death with a metal bedpan during a faked labor. Something to be avoided if possible. Life and the things she’d done would catch up with Glory eventually, but it wouldn’t be now, not if I had anything to say about it.

“You telling me you can do something about this?” I said, my voice dangerously flat.

“Not me, but the people I work for, yes.”

“So you’re not really an academic, private or otherwise then.” A not-so-big surprise. My lips curled coldly. “You only play one on TV.” I’d known the ID in his wallet was fake. If my memories hadn’t told me, then the suspicious niggle in the back of my brain would have. I knew a liar when I saw one, no matter how practiced.

“You think I’m a blackmailer.” He folded the papers, tucked them into his jacket pocket, and set his jaw. “I guess you have every right.”

I thought I saw a flash of self-contempt in his odd eyes. His conscience was evidently pricking him as he rammed that knife into my back. What a good guy. Yeah, right.

“Extortion.” I remained in the doorway to block his way and enjoyed the tiny revenge of his continued soaking. “Manipulating the judicial system-all this over something that is mostly smoke and mirrors, Chang? I’d think you’d have better sense.”

“Oh, I have sense. I have all the sense you could want and then some.” The regret disappeared, to be replaced by an unshakable and ruthless determination. “People are dying, Mr. Eye. I have no idea if you can help us stop that or not. But if you can, you will, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”