“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.”
“Why?”
For answer
she held up her hand, fingers spread. Electricity danced from one fingertip to
the next.