Chapter 4
Thirteen interviews, and we had barely dented the manifest.
“Have you ever stolen Synergy property?”
Through the glass, I watched as Booker continued the performance.
He maintained the same neutral, unassuming tone.
Despite the fatigue of asking the same set of questions every half hour, it didn’t relent.
I had been impressed with how he didn’t react when an employee tripped over their words during the questioning.
Now, I couldn’t help but admire the consistency.
“Why would you ask that? No. Never.”
He’d wait exactly twelve seconds. Few lasted that long.
“I took a ream of paper.” The employee looked like the others—white dress shirt, bold tie, but never too bold. Bright blue with a checkered pattern did just enough to give him a personality. Like every other employee, I didn’t think he had done anything that warranted intervention.
“Pens. Okay, maybe an office chair.”
Under Booker’s steady gaze, they all cracked.
I could have threatened to break kneecaps and fingers and not get the same results.
If Booker held his silence long enough, they’d start talking about crimes they committed while in grade school.
Whatever the government paid him, they needed to double it.
I left the window. The small observing room had a desk and two chairs.
It had become our unofficial office. There were stacks of boxes given to us by Ms. Keyes.
She didn’t just comply; she went above and beyond to help us find any wrongdoers.
Every box had been color-coded by threat level and included an executive summary with possible culprits.
At this point, none had pinged our radar.
I sat at the desk, eyeing the paperwork.
In the back of my head, Orion laughed. He claimed to be allergic to paper and would have faked a coughing fit to get away from it.
If he couldn’t read it on a screen, it didn’t exist. I had to wonder whether, if I brought Connor over to scan through all the documents, his artificial intelligence would see patterns we missed.
I could make the call, but it’d hasten the conclusion of our investigation.
Right now, I appreciated the distraction.
Booker opened the door.
I appreciated one distraction more than the others.
“Verdict?” he asked like he had thirteen times prior.
“Innocent,” I said. “I mean, guilty of everything but espionage.”
Book plopped down in the chair next to me.
His hulking frame made the metal legs screech across the tile floor.
I tried to ignore the barrel chest and the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his khakis.
Booker might have been an attractive man, but it had less to do with his appearance and more to do with his presence.
I could almost feel the energy in the room as he let out an exasperated sigh.
“I thought he was going to give us a name,” Booker admitted. “Not that he caught his grandma stealing candy from the store.”
“We should probably have her arrested.”
“Can’t be too careful,” he added. “You do remember the League of Seniors?”
I tensed at the mention. Not only did I remember them, but I had been one of the trio to put them away. Contaminated pudding had given half a dozen folks at the nursing home superpowers. Instead of being responsible, they went on a bender. I could still smell the baby powder and Bengay on my hands.
“I think I read about them.” Lying was not my strong suit. In fact, it might be my least favorite thing about having powers. The multiple personalities weren’t bad, but keeping it a secret? I managed. Reluctantly.
“How are you holding up?”
I studied his face. Anybody who thought he asked a harmless question hadn’t spent the last seven hours watching him interrogate.
It wasn’t the question that made it dangerous; it was the silence that followed.
I thought I hated sitting in uncomfortable silence, but it appeared everybody shared that trait.
I turned back to the paper, letting it linger.
It might as well be nails on a chalkboard.
Without a doubt, I’d break before him. This was a game of chicken I couldn’t win.
Staring at the paperwork covered in sticky notes, I felt exhausted.
That, coupled with my worry about the deal with Carmen, made everything feel as if it hung in limbo.
“I’m fine.”
“How about you tell me the truth?” He didn’t miss a beat as he called me out on the lie.
“You must be a lot of fun at poker.”
He flashed a grin. “Play your cards right, and you might find out.”
My jaw hung open, and my expression must have been borderline comical. His voice held the same even tone as the interview room, which only made it funnier.
“Bad puns? Really?”
He shrugged.
It wasn’t that Booker had a charming personality.
He did, but he had this knack for knowing just the right thing to say to shift the tension in the room.
He walked through conversations like a savant.
Did he have a natural ability, or had he learned this while working for the government?
Saying I was jealous would be the understatement of the century.
“I’m a bit… tired.”
His hand rested on my knee. Three fingers. They rested on the edge of my knee, far enough onto my thigh to get my attention, but not enough to be sexual harassment. I tried to ignore the electricity of the touch and the way it made the hair on my neck stand on end. In that moment I wanted—
Nothing. I took a deep breath. The fatigue vanished, and I couldn’t help but daydream about what I’d do with this second wind.
I let the worry about impressing Ricardo and Arthur escape from my lungs.
The fear of Carmen rejecting our proposal didn’t even register.
His hand on my knee was the only thing I could focus on.
“Let’s report in with Ms. Keyes and call it a day.”
I gestured to the dossier with names. “There are still so many. How do they have this many employees?”
The anxiety fought its way into my voice. With a tight grip on my leg, it vanished. If I hadn’t seen him at work, I’d say it was a coincidence. After a day of watching him work, Booker knew exactly what he was doing to distract me.
“You can’t draw from an empty well.” He patted my leg before leaning back. “We’re in this for the long game.”
“Yes, we are,” I mumbled. Now if only he’d put his hand back on my knee. Maybe a little higher.
“Grab your notes. I can assure you, she’s not going to be pleased.”
Fifteen minutes of silence.
Ms. Keyes read through our notes. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, intrigued, or just irked that we wasted her precious time.
She flipped pages, and the scrape of paper in the folder made my skin crawl.
Booker’s knee bounced as it had in the lobby.
This time, his fingers clenched the khaki material as if the steadiest man I had ever met was preparing to lose his cool.
“At least nothing blew up today,” I said.
Ms. Keyes looked up from the paperwork. Her office, like her desk, like her face, didn’t have a speck of personality behind it.
I’d describe her as beautiful. The dark brown hair, pulled back in a tight bun, showed off sharp cheekbones and an exposed clavicle.
Her eyelashes were long enough to cause a breeze when she actually blinked.
The dark, smoky eye with a hint of purple complemented the wine color of her lipstick.
Yes, everything about Ms. Keyes would be gorgeous if she didn’t scare the shit out of me.
“Small favors,” she said.
A joke? That was ever scarier.
“And you’re certain these employees are cleared?”
Booker’s knee stopped bouncing. “I’m certain. Though, the last one, you might want to file a complaint. I’m pretty sure he’s stolen a small fortune in office supplies.”
She checked the paper before setting it on the desk. “He’ll be dealt with accordingly.”
“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Both Ms. Keyes and Booker looked at me. I felt foolish. Why would a multi-million dollar company bust the kneecaps of its employees? It’s not like there had been reports of dead bodies, just superhuman disasters.
“I’ll add a note in his file,” she said. “Mr. Carter—”
“Drew,” I corrected.
“Drew,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I’m curious. Why so nervous?”
Did I admit that being unable to read her demeanor made me anxious?
Or did I confess that this was my default state?
For a split second, I imagined that if Hellion were sitting here, he’d have said his piece and walked off without a care.
I reached to my hip, as if I had a baton at the ready. Try as I might, only Drew sat here.
“I’m always nervous,” I admitted. Might as well tell the truth. “Worse when we don’t have anything good to report.”
“No,” she said, sliding forward on her desk. “This is good. Despite what the employees might say. I’m not here to fire people. I’m the director of Human Resources, for God’s sake. Who would revel in knowing they hired a supervillain?”
Booker still hadn’t spoken up. In the interviews, he had been controlled and smooth in his delivery. It appeared that I wasn’t the only one slightly unnerved. Though I couldn’t tell if he was anxious or angry. How did everybody but me have a great poker face?
“We’ll keep working through the list,” I said. I put my hand on his leg, pushing it hard enough that he couldn’t continue his bouncing. His eyes shot from my face to my hand, and I withdrew it quickly, fearful I had overstepped a personal boundary.
“Drew’s right, Ms. Keyes—”
“Catherine.” She gave me the faintest, controlled smile. “It’s only fair.”
“Catherine,” he said. “We’ll keep working through the list tomorrow. I’ll make sure my report to headquarters highlights your cooperation.”