The Color of Courage (7 page)

My youngest brother was enlisting and planned to be career Army. My mother was proud, of course. In a very weird defiance of stereotype, she treated me, the oldest of six, like the baby of the family. My youngest brother? She was full of confidence and pride in him. I never had been able to figure it out.

“You’ll tell her that?” I asked.

Sarah sighed. “Of course. You know, the
middle
kid is supposed to be the peacemaker.” But Becca was actually the rebellious one. She was bracketed by brothers, Steven and Jeff, and all three of them were only a year apart each. Together they’d brewed more mischief than the other three of us times ten. Sarah was the little mother Adam expected me to be, and Spike just did his own thing, reliably and well.

I was the oddity.

I thanked my sister, who brushed it off and went on to what she probably considered more important things.

“Ian.”

My heart stuttered. “What about him?”

“I called last night to talk to you about the family picnic next month and got your answering machine.”

On which the outgoing message was no longer in Ian’s voice. He’d insisted on recording it for me as a safety measure, so callers wouldn’t know I was a woman living alone. I’d known the change would make our breakup obvious but couldn’t allow the recording to remain.

“You didn’t leave a message.”

“I was so shocked it timed out on me.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Dale? What happened?”

There was no getting out of it. With the drama of the jewel heist and the interrupted dinner party, my friends at HQ had let the subject drop. There was no way my family would do that.

“He found someone else,” I finally admitted. It would soothe my ego to let them believe I’d ended the relationship, but it wouldn’t be true, and it would also likely cause them to try to convince me to give him another chance.

“That bastard!”

“Really, Sarah, he’s not.” I explained how Ian had presented it to me, and she had to admit, grudgingly, that he’d done the right thing.

“But how are you? Just because he realized you weren’t going to last doesn’t mean you did.”

“I’m fine. He’s absolutely right.” She waited. I gave in. “I’m lonely. I don’t miss
him
, especially, I just miss the presence. You know?”

“Yeah, hon, I know.” Of course she did. She’d lived with a guy for three years, since their senior year of college, before he left her for a job across the country. “Do you need a roommate?”

“Not yet.” I missed Ian being here as often as he had been, but I didn’t necessarily want another person in the apartment. It was a tiny place, and as lonely as it was, the thought of tripping all over someone new as we learned each other’s habits and needs was as exhausting as my day had been. “I have enough savings to get me through a few months if the jobs slow down.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t exactly have a lot of job security.”

“I don’t have a lot of life security!” I laughed at myself, feeling better. Sarah obviously didn’t appreciate it, judging by the silence on the other end.

“Wanna meet for dinner next week?”

“Sure. Your end or mine?” Her own apartment was near the end of the red line in Wheaton, Maryland, not far from the house where we grew up. We took turns on the train, but I couldn’t remember whose turn it was.

“Yours. Then you won’t have to deal with the Metro with the bad hip.”

“God, it had better be improved by then.” I frowned. “Besides, Mom’s making me promise to come to dinner Friday. I’ll have to take the train then.”

“Yeah, right. She’ll send Dad after you with the car. I won’t be there, I have a date. Talk to you next week!” She hung up before I could catch her.

“Just you wait,” I grumbled. “Interrogation delayed is not interrogation denied.” I studied the phone, flipping the screen to the number I hadn’t recognized from this morning. Should I call? It was after nine. It might have been a wrong number. Even if it wasn’t a wrong number, I might get whoever it was out of bed. It could also have been a client, in which case I’d probably get voicemail. I could call tomorrow.

I debated for several more seconds before I punched the button. I’d rather get today’s business done and start fresh tomorrow.

“Forgeron.”

I hesitated. The voice was familiar, but not the name. Then my tired brain clicked, and I realized it was Evan.

“It’s Daley. Returning your call?” I hated the little question on the end. I sounded uncertain, and since that was a common state of mine, I tried not to reveal it.

“Daley, hi.” His voice had gone from law-enforcement hard to interested-guy soft. I melted a little. “I was just checking on you.”

It was sweet. And confusing.

“I’m doing okay.” I’d been sitting too long, and my hip throbbed. I struggled to my feet. “Sore. Hip hurts. But it’ll be fine.” I paused, then added, “I appreciate your concern.”

“Did you have a call today?”

I had to think what he meant. “Oh, a call. Like a rescue. No. I was doing my other job.”

Evan asked about my work, and we talked about that as I put away my stuff for the day. I longed for a bath. Warm, comforting water fighting gravity for me and giving my hip a rest. But I found myself not wanting to hang up with Evan.

“I don’t understand how knowing the candidates’ emotions helps the interviewers,” he said. “It’s an artificial situation. Everyone’s nervous. Where’s the mystery?”

“Nerves aren’t all they feel.” I turned on the speaker and set the phone on my bed so I could get my suit off. The pain in my hip subsided just a bit once the uncomfortable pants were on the floor. I could just imagine how bad off I’d be if I’d worn pantyhose. “Sometimes there’s a deeper fear that might mean falsified credentials or a problem with their last job. I make note of emotional changes and the questions when they occurred, and that can cause the interview team to double check their background or do more intensive reference reviews.”

“Okay, I can see that. How much liability do you have?”

I perched on the edge of the tub and turned on the water. “As little as possible. I have to be careful.”

“What are you doing?” Evan sounded strangled, but I wasn’t sure why. Was he annoyed that he didn’t have my full attention?

“Running a bath,” I said before I’d thought any harder. Then I felt my face heat.

Especially when he kind of gurgled and asked, “Daley, are you naked?”

Smiling, I said, “Not completely. Not yet.”

“Uhhhh . . .”

Time to change the subject. As much as I appreciated the idea that he liked imagining me naked, he wasn’t my boyfriend.

“I didn’t thank you for staying at the hospital waiting for me.” As quietly as possible, I removed my bra and underwear and slipped into the water. I couldn’t help the sigh that eased out as I floated. God, I’d needed this.

“It was no big deal.”

“I appreciate it, anyway. I haven’t talked to Summer about the rest of her dinner party. You went back?”

He cleared his throat and sounded more focused. “Yeah. Those kids, John and . . . Sophie?”

“Sylvia.”

“Yeah, her. They’d left. Everyone else was there.”

“Even Chad?”

He chuckled. “Even Chad. In fact, he and Kirby were talking quite animatedly about the jewel heist you foiled.”

I snorted. “She wasn’t even there. They left together?”

“Yep.” For the first time, I heard other sounds behind his voice. Rustling, and some clinks.

“It won’t last. He was bored out of his mind when she talked about everyday stuff.” My water was cooling. I toed a bar of soap off the ledge and started using it with my free hand.

“Everyone has that stuff. You don’t have to be fascinated by the mundane to stay with someone.”

“True.” I leaned to replace the soap and then splashed water to rinse off. I heard more rustling on the other end of the line, then what sounded like pillow-thumping and the click of a lamp. I was just about to ask if he was in bed, then thought better of restarting that line of discussion.

“Have you talked to Ian?”

I froze. Surely he hadn’t said what I thought he’d said. “What?”

“Isn’t that the name of the jerk who just dumped you?”

Embarrassed and angry, I didn’t respond at first. But Evan, being in law enforcement or whatever, had no problem with silences.

I didn’t know what to ask first. I finally settled on, “How the hell do you know about Ian?”

Perhaps he could hear the anger in my voice. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t a very smooth segue. Trace and I had a lot of time to kill while we waited for your x-ray last night.”

“Trace has no business talking about my personal life. How did you even get on the subject, anyway?”

“You’ll find out.”

“Are you laughing at me?” I yanked the plug out of the drain and stood, forgetting about my injury, and caught my breath at the sharp stab of pain.

“I’m not laughing, no. And I’m sorry to talk about you behind your back.”

I sighed. People talked about people. I couldn’t be angry about something I’d just been doing myself. “That doesn’t matter. I just don’t know why you’d mention it to me.”

“I wonder if you’re heartbroken. Or if maybe he realizes he made a mistake.”

“Neither.” I reached for a towel and dried myself as best I could with one hand. “I haven’t talked to him, and I’m lonely but not heartbroken.” I bit my tongue. Why had I said that? “He didn’t dump me, not really. He had solid reasons for ending our relationship.”

“Were you living together?”

“No. The apartment isn’t really big enough for two people.”

Evan chuckled. I didn’t think my statement was funny, but whatever. There were other things worth questioning. Like why he cared.

“Evan, can I be blunt?”

“Please do.”

“I thought you were interested in Summer.”

“That isn’t what you think.” His tone was the most serious it had been all night, and I wished I could see his aura. Maybe I couldn’t tell how he felt about me, or what he wanted from me, but I could re-examine what he felt about her. See if he was telling the truth.

“What is it, then?”

He didn’t answer. I slipped on my short satin robe, now feeling overheated after the warm bath. It was the middle of summer, after all, and my window A/C unit didn’t reach the bathroom, even with the door open.

“It’s getting late. I appreciate you calling.”

“Daley . . .”

A soft knock hit my front door.

“Someone’s at the door,” I interrupted Evan. “Have a good night.” I hung up and dropped the phone onto the table next to my attaché. Grateful as I was for an excuse to hang up with Evan, it was now nearly ten-thirty and far too late for someone to be here. I tightened my belt and peered through the peephole, somehow both startled and unsurprised to see Trace in the tiny hallway.

I opened the door. “I knew it.” I eyed the huge duffle over his shoulder, the pillow under his arm, and the box at his feet. “You got evicted.”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Uh, yeah. Do you think I could crash here for a few days?”

“You told Evan you were planning to do this, didn’t you?” No wonder he’d sounded so amused. “Trace, I don’t have room for you.” But I stepped back and let him in.

“I know.” He let the duffle fall to the floor and dropped the pillow on top. “I promise, it won’t be long.” He glanced around the living room. “You’re the only one who has a sleeper sofa.”

“What about Adam’s? Why can’t you stay there?”

He made a face. “Rachel.”

“She’s always out of town.” But I relented. I couldn’t force anyone to put up with Rachel. And Trace was a good guy.

“She said she’d be in town for the rest of the summer. Lots of dignitaries coming in or something. I can pay you,” he added.

“You just got evicted!”

“I have money. Just not enough for that apartment. That’s all. Please, Daley?”

I sighed. “All right. But I will not cook for you, clean up after you, or deal with bathroom issues. You pee on the toilet seat, you’re out.”

“I promise!” He jumped over the duffle and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

“And don’t forget it.”

I showed him where the sheets and towels were, then headed for bed. I was done at the bank, but I did have some short consulting jobs, and HQ had a meeting in the afternoon. Not to mention, we never knew what the next day would bring.

Chapter 7

Somehow, I managed to get a good, solid night’s sleep. I hadn’t expected it. My apartment is open-plan, which means I have no door on the bedroom alcove. I couldn’t see Trace on the sofa bed, but I could hear him move and was aware of his presence. That was foreign enough to keep me awake, but apparently not enough to defeat my exhaustion.

I woke slowly, comfortable and content, and even a few minutes before my alarm. I stretched and yawned, and as I relaxed I heard voices coming from the bathroom.

“Yeah, I know. I was just about to go get bagels and muffins. Coffee’s on. You know how she is about morning coffee.” It sounded like Trace appreciated my allowing him to stay here, but who was he talking to? There was a rasp, then a swish of water.

“Do you have me on speakerphone?” Adam’s voice, tinny.

“Relax, she’s asleep. I can’t shave and talk to you at the same time.”

“She needs rest, Trace. Her hip was injured more than she lets on. Not to mention—”

“Scared, almost died, blah, blah, blah.” More rasp and swish. “Geez, man, stop being her father and do what you really want to do. Didn’t that near miss shock you into action?”

Adam’s silence, even over the cell phone, was cold.

“Well?”

“I’m not talking about this now.”

“I don’t care if you ever talk about it. Especially not if you do something instead.” More silence. Trace gave an exaggerated sigh. “You never know if you don’t try.”

“It’s not the right time.”

“You have to make timing work for you. Not just pine until the stars line up.” The gurgle of the drain drowned out Adam’s response, and then Trace must have taken the phone off speaker because after that I could only hear his voice. A few seconds later, the door opened and closed and he was gone.

I lay there, thinking about what I’d heard and what it could mean. Being part of a big family meant overhearing parts of a lot of conversations. Interpreting them often led to idiotic assumptions—like that the “her” was me, and Trace was encouraging Adam to take action. Like, romantic action. But that couldn’t be. Adam never treated me as more than a friend, a little sister.

A wave of coffee scent wafted into the room, and I dismissed the conversation as none of my business. By the time I’d drunk a cup and eaten one of the fresh bagels Trace brought back, I decided having a contrite, grateful roommate for a few days wouldn’t be so bad.

Even better, my hip pain had decreased by half. I could walk without the cane and figured a dose of ibuprofen would take care of the rest. So I was in good spirits when I met my first client an hour later.

They disappeared as soon as she opened her mouth.

“I know he’s cheating on me.”

I was going to kill Kirby for fibbing to me. She knew I hated these jobs, that I didn’t do them anymore. People didn’t understand what I could do. Deceit wasn’t an emotion, and even though I could detect emotions that might relate to cheating—like guilt, anger, shame, fear—they could relate to a million other things, too.

When I first started consulting work, I took any job I could get, and a lot of them were like this. I ended up a
de facto
marriage counselor a lot of the time, and in the middle of dangerous circumstances once too often. When I started getting fairly steady work, I stopped with the marriage stuff.

But Crystal, Kirby’s sister’s best friend, was hard to dissuade. She’d hired a PI who’d determined that her husband met with the same woman every Tuesday in mid-afternoon. She wanted me to go to there and see what he was feeling when he was with her.

She looked so desperate, I agreed. Partly because I’m a wuss. But partly because I did want to find evidence that she was wrong. I wasn’t hopeful. But even the most cynical superheroes needed proof, once in a while, that not everyone out there was bad or stupid.

I called Adam after I left Crystal, to see if we could delay the meeting a little bit. He was reluctant.

“It won’t take long,” I told him.

“That’s what you always say.”

I knew he didn’t mean me specifically. We all tried to keep our other jobs loose and flexible, but unless there was a real emergency, they tended to take precedence over non-emergency HQ stuff. It was a need-to-eat kind of thing.

“I promise, Adam. I just have to check out this one guy and report back to his wife. I need the money. The heat is making my electric bill soar.”

“All right. But no more than fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I promise.”

Of course, the promise jinxed me. Crystal’s husband and the woman were late. I had to be seated to get a read on them, and was afraid I’d have to pay for a meal that cost more than I was earning. But I got lucky. From where I sat, I couldn’t see their faces or postures very well, but their auras were clear. Pink, the color of friendly feelings between people who like each other but haven’t shared anything deeper. Yellow—amusement. Some green around the edges, and that was it.

As I left, pretending to be upset that I’d been stood up, the hostess wished me a pleasant afternoon. As I was already fifteen minutes late for our bumped-back meeting, I doubted I’d have one. Not that Adam had much of a temper. He was calm under all circumstances. In two years, I’d never heard him raise his voice. But he was the kind of guy you hated to disappoint.

So I’d rushed halfway down the hall toward the meeting/break room when I realized he was yelling. His fury was so great the dark, throbbing red seeped around the edges of his office door. A moment later, that door flew open. A man stalked out. Not Adam, but an older, seedy-looking guy wearing plaid polyester golf pants and a sweat-stained boater’s hat. He glared at me but said nothing, just slammed through the outside door and disappeared.

I waited, but Adam didn’t emerge. There was silence in his office. I hoped he was okay but wasn’t quite brave enough to check.

“What the hell was that?” I asked when I entered the meeting room. Trace and Kirby sat side by side at the table, looking subdued. Summer answered me from the counter.

“I think he wanted us to do a B and E or something.” She handed me a cup of coffee.

I took it without thinking, my mouth hanging open. “Where on earth would he have gotten the idea that we’d do something illegal?”

Summer looked at the table. Trace nodded toward the magazine in the middle of it.
Today’s News.
The new issue.

“I thought the article was going to be out next week.”

“Apparently, she made an earlier deadline.”

I looked closer. On the cover was a collage of photos, some of people, some of sites of rescues in different parts of the country. Across the bottom of the page, in huge white letters, were the words, “Saviors? Or a Danger to Humanity?”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” I snatched up the magazine. “I thought we’d convinced her.”

“We did,” Kirby said. “Everything in there about HQ is positive. She profiled each one of us and raved about Adam’s honor and nobility.”

“And then she trashed everybody else.” Trace looked grim as he retrieved the mag from my hand. He flipped it open and turned a couple of pages. “‘Not all superhero agencies hold to such high values. In fact, some go so far as to be villainous, perpetuating the same crimes organizations like HQ are in business to stop.’ She mentions six crimes that may or may not have had super abilities involved. Then she talks about Chicago.” He threw the magazine down. “Three columns on us. Three
pages
,” he spit, “on speculation and negativity.”

I picked up the magazine and skimmed as I sat next to Kirby, but it was pretty much as Trace had described. A sidebar talked about other groups, organizations that protested the so-called reverence and permissiveness of the government and the people who’d benefited from superhero work. There was even a group calling itself Citizens Against Superhero Existence. I shivered, imagining death squads coming after anyone with special abilities.

“Is this what Adam wanted to meet about?” I asked.

“Part of it.” He came into the room, still exuding so much fury I didn’t need to see the aura. I could feel it. But he appeared normal except for his eyes. I’d never seen his eyes blaze before. My skin felt scorched, and something inside me started to burn.

When he turned to me, my breath caught. My heart paused, then thudded extra hard, once. Goosebumps pebbled my flesh. I was so shocked at my reaction I almost said, “What the fuck?”

“I told you the interview was a bad idea,” he said, still looking at me.

I couldn’t focus. My body was trying to tell me something my head wouldn’t compute. “I don’t think so,” I finally said. “If we hadn’t met with her, she might have painted us with the same brush. Maybe the tone of the entire article would have been anti-superhero.”

“Maybe.” He slouched into the chair between Trace and me. His leg brushed mine and something fluttered through my chest.

Summer set the coffee pot on the trivet in the center of the table and joined us.

“Thanks, Summer.” Adam continued, “It doesn’t matter that she treated us well. The guy who just left wanted to hire us because of that creep in Dallas with the EMP voice who uses it to turn off alarm systems and steal things.”

“An isolated incident,” I tried to soothe. The more he talked, the more scarlet his emotions became. Not anger anymore, but . . . passion?

“We also got a call from a guy who wondered if we have a clairvoyant on the staff. He’s a bookie. And—” He stopped, glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. We just need to be on the same page about some things.”

“Adam, we’re not going to take illegal jobs!” Kirby said. “I can’t believe you’d think for a second one of us would.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m not trying to warn you. But I’m not always the one who answers the phone or accepts assignments. Our response has to be consistent.”

Kirby subsided. While he was our front man, we were often approached individually on behalf of the whole organization, either at events or through our outside jobs.

“So what’s our a party line?” Summer asked.

“HQ does not engage in criminal activities of any sort. Our purpose is the opposite. We undergo constant training and preparation to guard against accidents or difficulties like they faced in Chicago, but our profession is as dangerous as law enforcement or rescue work, and we can’t avoid every difficulty.”

“Sounds good.” Trace shifted like he was going to stand. “No different from our usual propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda,” Adam corrected, “and there’s more.”

Trace sat back down. “More what?”

Adam tapped his fingers on the table, a restless gesture I wasn’t used to seeing in him. It echoed something inside me that I wasn’t used to, either.

“I have a meeting with Tulie tomorrow.”

“You’re going to San Diego?” I blurted.

He shook his head. “He’s coming here.”

We went silent. Tulie leaving San Diego was as unthinkable as Adam leaving the DC Metro area.

“Because of the article?” I asked. Tulie’s group hadn’t even been mentioned.

“He wouldn’t say. But he was upset.”

Trace responded for all of us. “Well, shit.”

My phone rang into the silence. I started. Adam’s lips actually lifted in something resembling a smile.

“Sorry.” I checked the number. It was Crystal, who hadn’t answered when I called her on my way back from the restaurant.

“Go ahead and take it.” Adam stood just as the front door chimed. “I’ll get that.”

I flipped open my phone and walked down the hall to the small office the rest of us shared.

“Crystal, thanks for calling back.”

“I couldn’t believe I missed you. I must have been on the train. It was a quick trip, one stop, but of course that’s what happens when you’re expecting a call. Like they bring your food as soon as you go to the bathroom.”

“Ah . . . yeah. It’s okay.” I went to the window overlooking the alley between our building and the next. It was the ugliest view possible, trashcans and an overflowing Dumpster and pools of liquids I didn’t want to think about. As Crystal rattled on, maybe in an effort to prevent me from saying what she thought I was going to say, my mind pulled Adam into my mental viewer.

I wasn’t thinking of him like a brother now. For the first time, I’d witnessed his passion with my ability rather than my sight. It was one thing to know we were the most important thing in the world to him. It was another to
feel
it. It was powerful, and I craved it. Wondered, after the conversation I’d overheard this morning, if maybe I was different.

Crystal laughed nervously, snapping me back to the call. “Okay, tell me. He’s cheating, isn’t he?”

I sighed. “Crystal, I told you, I can’t know that.”

“So what do you know?”

“I can tell that his feelings for this woman are platonic, and so are hers for him. I have no idea what they’re doing there every week, or where they go afterward. But he’s not in love with her.”

“He doesn’t need to be, to fuck her,” she snarled. “If that’s all—”

“There was no lust, either. Lust is an emotion, Crystal. So is attraction. There was none of that.” I heard her start crying, though she didn’t say anything. “Talk to him. Tell him you’re worried. And maybe see a marriage counselor to address the reasons you thought he was cheating, and the reason he’s not telling you about this. Okay?”

Crystal gave a very subdued agreement, thanked me, and asked where to send my check. I told her, hung up, and stared out the window some more. My stomach hurt. This was the last time I was going to do a favor like this.

“I didn’t realize your job could get so sordid.”

I didn’t turn. “How long have you been standing there?” Eavesdropping, but I didn’t accuse him. I hadn’t shut the door. I didn’t have to worry about my teammates overhearing a call like that. I probably wouldn’t have cared about Evan overhearing, if he hadn’t sounded so disapproving.

“Aren’t the ethics of dipping into someone’s emotions without their permission a little dicey?”

I whipped around. “I don’t dip.”