“Something I can do for you, Miss?”
“Are you the asshole that’s been fucking with the weather?”
I blinked. As far as I knew, the weather in Belport was pretty much what it always was, rainy.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She pulled a rolled newspaper from her back pocket and launched it at me. I unrolled it to see the circled headline. “Freak Weather in Heritage Park. Experts Baffled.” I didn’t need to look at the byline to know who wrote it. Fortuantely Lindsey Reese had seen fit to leave me out of the story. Makes for some nice plausible deniability.
“What’s this got to do—”
“Don’t fuck with me. I’ve been digging around and found out you were there. Given what you investigate, you’re the logical answer. I also got your name from Jack.”
“I don’t know Jack.” Perfect set up for a line.
“Asshole that likes to shock with a handshake.”
From some unknown corner the memory swam up. It was almost ten years ago, not long after Max and I had divided the city between us.
“That Jack? What’s going on? What do you want from me?”
“I told you. I want to know who’s been fucking with the weather.”
For answer she held up her hand, fingers spread. Electricity danced from one fingertip to the next.