A thorough search revealed an empty trash bin and a missing answering unit, but thankfully, no intruder. Someone, maybe A.I.R., maybe not, had searched my place. The air pulsed with someone else’s energy. Nothing appeared out of place or destroyed, but…something didn’t feel right. I cautiously stepped into the foyer and scanned my living room. Only when I reached my apartment did I stop again. “You did good,” I told him, jumping back into stride. He just continued to stare at the gown beneath the jacket, and I waved my hand in front of his face until he actually made eye contact. “Uh, the police have been here looking for you,” he called. “If you want to live, don’t comment on my clothes.” I never slowed my step and quickly passed him. He stood in front of the elevator, tall, lanky, and young, probably twenty, with dark blond hair and freckled skin. “Uh, hi,” he said, pressing his glasses up his nose and trying not to stare at my cleavage. My neighbor, Eddie Briggs, paled when he realized who he’d just objectified. I turned sharply on the balls of my feet. Just as I rounded the corner, I heard a high-pitched you’re-looking-good whistle. The hallway was a broad opening into an expansive sunlit lobby that left nothing to obstruct my vision. My steps clipped and frantic, I strode inside the building. An hour later, I eased into my building’s parking lot. I drove north for half an hour, and had almost given up finding a familiar road when New Chicago’s skyscrapers rose ahead, above the horizon. I snatched the car phone and said, “Jack Pagosa, A.I.R.,” into the speaker. The squeal of thick tire tread filled my ears as I sped away. The garage door opened automatically and the car jolted into motion. As she sprinted away, I programmed in the coordinates to my apartment. “Pren,” she shouted, and the engine hummed instantly to life. I banged my hand on the hood in frustration. I approached the far SUV, the one with chains on the tires, low mileage, and turbocharge. Thankfully, there was no sign of Kyrin’s return.
I raced back outside, dragging her with me as I retraced my steps to the garage.
Her body trembled, but she didn’t try to fight me. I grabbed her by the upper arm and hefted her up. A few minutes later, I found a young woman hiding in a cubbyhole under the kitchen floor.
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