Karen Rose - I Can See You

Yeah, Noah thought bitterly. He knew. Before six months ago Jack wouldn’t have given Eve the time of day. Her scar had put him off. The man was a prince.

Jack made a rude noise. “Don’t you look at me like that, Web. You sure weren’t making a move, before or after she got her face fixed.”

Sometimes, I swear to God … Noah gripped the wheel to keep his hand from balling into an annoyed fist, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What did she say?”

“She evades me every single time. She’s a smooth one.”

Noah thought about the way she’d bolted away minutes ago. Not so smooth. He’d known she was hiding something. A damn big something. His mind was still reeling.

“But I bet she’s good at it,” Jack added as Noah pulled out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“Eve. Phone sex. She’s got that smoky voice. I bet she makes good money.”

Noah knew Jack was riding him, but still the anger rose higher. “Shut. Up. Jack.”

Jack chuckled. “God, you’re easy. Ask her out. She’ll say no and you can move on.”

“No.” Noah bit the word off, then regretted it. He was letting Jack bait him. Again.

“Whatever.” Jack was quiet a moment. “One of Martha’s clients may have killed her.”

Noah made himself concentrate. “Possibly. Did Faye have Martha’s LUDs yet?”

“Yeah, and there was a toll-free number she called at least ten times a day.”

“Her connection into Siren Song’s switchboard.”

“I’m thinking that,” Jack said. “When we get Samantha’s LUDs, we’ll see if Sammy called the same number. Maybe Siren’s the connection between the two.”

“Hell. If this perv is hitting on phone sex operators, and Eve is working for them…”

“Let’s make sure all the other Sirens are still alive and heavy breathing.”

“Not funny, Jack.”

Jack’s sigh was almost sincere. “Wasn’t really meant to be. Sometimes they just come out on their own. Hey, my dad’s a stand-up comic. It’s genetic.”

“Your dad’s a retired podiatrist.”

“He does stand-up part time at the comedy club. Said after looking at feet for forty years, it only seemed right. He’s pretty good. Henny Youngman, watch out.”

Noah laughed wearily. Just when he was ready to strangle Jack, his partner acted human and… almost likable. “Jack.”

Jack’s lips curved. “But you laughed. Look at the bright side. Maybe one of us can convince Eve to leave Siren and go into private practice. If you know what I mean.”

Unbelievably, Noah felt his cheeks heat. “Are you a perpetual teenager?”

Jack considered it without rancor. “Yep. You wanna grab lunch, hit Siren Song, then head back to the nursing home to chat with Martha’s Mommy Dearest?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Monday, February 22, 3:02 p.m

Liza Barkley flipped open her phone the moment she walked out of the school. She’d been checking surreptitiously all day, but Lindsay hadn’t called back.

Worried sick, she called Information and was connected to Shotz Cleaning Service.

“Hi, my name is Liza Barkley and I’m trying to reach my sister Lindsay. She didn’t come home last night, after working the night shift. Have you heard from her?”

There was a long silence on the other end and Liza’s stomach turned inside out. Poised in front of her school bus, she froze. “Is my sister all right?”

“Um… we had to let Lindsay go last June. Business was bad.”

Stunned, Lindsay stared at the ground. June? “She goes to work every night. She told me that business was bad, that she had to take the night shift to keep her job.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a night shift. Good luck.”

For a moment Liza stood, too numb to move. Lindsay lied. What had she been doing all these months? It didn’t matter now. Lindsay was missing.

“Liza?” The bus driver leaned forward. “You need to get on. It’s time to leave.”

Do something . “I’m not going home. Which city bus goes to the police station?”

Monday, February 22, 3:35 p.m.

Eve sank into the stuffed chair in her living room. Someone had murdered Martha, who’d spent eighteen hours a day online. Was it random or connected to Shadowland?

“That’s crazy,” she said out loud. “Nobody knew who Desiree was in the real world.”

You did. That stopped her cold. And Christy Lewis didn’t show up for work today .

Oh my God. What if something had happened to Christy, too?

Eve logged in to Shadowland, chose her Greer avatar and went to Ninth Circle. But Greer searched, finding no Gwenivere. Eve navigated Gwenivere’s virtual house, and… the breath rushed out of her lungs. A black wreath hung on the door . The death of an avatar. Heart pounding, Eve had Greer open the door.

And everything real around her faded away. Eve stared at the screen until she heard a whimper and realized it had come from her own throat.

Gwenivere was hanging, a noose around her neck, her face made up like a garish clown. Her red shoes had fallen off. One lay on its side and the other sat straight up.

“Oh my God,” Eve whispered. Her pulse now pounding out of control, she set the laptop aside and paced. Martha was found hanging. Now Christy’s Gwenivere was hanging. It could be a coincidence. But you know damn well it’s not. Call 911 .

And tell them what? That a virtual-world character got whacked? They’ll laugh at me.

So don’t tell them about Shadowland. Just tell them to check on her.

And they’ll ask why. So I’ll say, she missed work today. They’ll still laugh at me .

“I can’t call 911,” she said. “But I have to tell somebody.” Somebody she could trust.

If this were Chicago, she’d call Detective Mia Mitchell who, along with Dana and Caroline, had raised her. But this wasn’t Chicago and Mia wasn’t here.

She calmed until all she could hear was the dripping of the water into the pots in her living room and then she knew what to do. Olivia Sutherland. Olivia was Mia’s sister and Hat Squad, too. Olivia was a kind person-she’d helped Eve get the job at Sal’s. If Christy was in trouble, Olivia could tell Noah Webster and keep Eve out of the whole loop. If Christy was fine, Olivia would keep it to herself.

“Now you’re finally thinking,” Eve muttered. She dialed the precinct, asked for Olivia. And got voicemail. “Olivia, it’s Eve Wilson. Could you call me please? It’s urgent.”

She hung up and stared at the hanging avatar on her laptop screen. “Now what?”

You have to check on Christy. Hands shaking, Eve searched the online phonebook. Martha had been listed, but there were twelve Christine Lewises in the Twin Cities.

The addresses of all the study subjects were in a file on the university’s server under Dr. Donner’s account. The one time she’d broken in, she’d done so from Donner’s admin assistant’s PC. Jeremy Lyons had typed the names in when the study began.

Jeremy Lyons was also careless and left his workstation unprotected when he took one of his many bathroom breaks during the day. It had taken Eve only minutes to find the file and write down the names of the subjects she’d thought at risk. There hadn’t been time to write home addresses and she hadn’t wanted to know them anyway.

That had been too close to real-world stalking. Now she wished she’d copied them.

“You could just call Noah Webster,” she said aloud. And tell him what? How about the truth? She’d wanted to tell him when she stood in front of Martha’s apartment. There was something in his eyes that she… trusted. Trust was a precious commodity.