A Gift of Thought (20 page)

‘
Just a coincidence, I guess,’
Lucas answered her silently, his expression abstracted for a moment before he seemed to shake off the mood.

There had been other people in the lobby, both arriving at the party and milling about, but they were alone in the elevator. Sylvie put her hand on Lucas’s chest, sliding it into his jacket until she could feel the beating of his heart.
‘You’re okay?’

He nodded, smiled, eyes dark, then bent his head and began kissing her.

Chapter Eleven

His parents were finally here.

And they looked amazing. His mom wore the cool black dress, her hair twisted up but glinting copper in the light, and his dad was in a tux, with a bow tie and everything.

As they came through the doors, his mom smiled up at his dad and Dillon’s sense of guilt increased exponentially. He was letting—no, encouraging—Rachel to do something crazy. And all so he could get Sylvie and his dad to Tassamara. Maybe he should be leaving her alone instead. Maybe now that she and his dad had found each other again, they could work things out on their own. What good was talking to them going to do anyway?

But Rachel had been trying to kill herself, he reminded himself. He wasn’t doing this just for his parents. He wanted to help Rachel, too.

Still, the whole plan felt like a huge risk. What if she got into trouble? What if she got kidnapped? What if some serial killer attacked her, like the one who’d gone for his mom? She wouldn’t be able to defend herself and he’d be useless.

But it was too late now.

Rachel was determined. If he didn’t do his part, she’d get caught right away and he couldn’t do that to her. As his mom stepped through the metal detector, Dillon glanced at the clock on the wall above the reception desk.

It was time.

He and his dad stepped into the detector at the same moment. As always, it was strange but not uncomfortable to be standing inside another person, but as his dad stepped outside of the beeping machine, Dillon stayed in it, his eyes on the guard at the front desk. They needed that guard to look away from the monitor that scanned through the images from the building’s security cameras for the next few minutes. Otherwise, the sight of a teenage girl using the emergency exit at the back of the building was sure to raise alarms. This way, Rachel’s departure would still be recorded, but with any luck, they wouldn’t find the recording until she was already on the train and halfway to Florida.

Beep, beep, beep.

There, the guard was getting up and heading this way. Perfect.

Dillon stopped paying attention to the guards and watched his parents instead. They were walking toward the elevators and his dad had his hand resting on the small of his mom’s back. That seemed like a good sign.

As they disappeared into the elevator, he glanced back at the clock. Three more minutes and then he’d try to catch up with Rachel. No, not try, he corrected himself. He would catch up with Rachel. If she got into trouble, he’d be right there with her, even if all he could do was watch. He shuddered at the thought and stared at the second hand of the clock, wishing it would move faster.

Finally, at last, Dillon hurried out of the building. He turned up the tree-lined sidewalk, searching for Rachel as he rushed along the street, ignoring scattered pedestrians as he made his way toward Columbus Circle. With relief, he spotted her dark-haired figure waiting at a traffic light.

She’d already gotten rid of her velvet dress, he realized. She must have pulled it off and thrown it in the first trash can she passed. Her arms clutched around herself, she shivered in the cold, one hand clenched around her open GPS tracking device and the other holding the battery.

“I hope you’re here, Dillon,” she was saying under her breath. She’d left her phone behind so Dillon had no way to answer her. “Look for a cab that’s loading up. When I walk by it, I’ll put the battery back in my tracker. You make the driver’s phone ring and I’ll drop the tracker into the trunk. That way I’ll know you’re with me and I can get rid of the tracker.”

Rachel was much too good at this, Dillon thought, feeling more anxious than ever. What if the driver noticed? What if he spotted the tracking device and stopped Rachel?

But it all went exactly as Rachel planned. As she hurried into the huge granite and marble train station, the cab driver was closing up his trunk, unaware of the small black object almost invisible against the dark trunk carpet.

Rachel’s cheeks were pink. Dillon wondered whether it was from the chill or exhilaration. In his opinion, she was enjoying herself far too much.

As she passed hundreds of dollars in cash across to the ticket-taker to purchase the ticket she’d reserved online, the man gave her a sharp look.

“All by yourself, miss?”

“Oh, no,” she responded blithely. “My dad’s parking the car. He was worried I’d miss the train so he dropped me off at the door and sent me in ahead. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes to see me off.”

The cashier glanced at the clock, but didn’t comment as he counted the cash and slid it into the drawer. Dillon looked, too. The train wouldn’t depart for another half hour or so. It wasn’t a totally implausible lie, but it wasn’t foolproof, either.

“Awfully young to be traveling by yourself, aren’t you?” The cashier still sounded skeptical as he printed out her ticket.

Rachel smiled at him. “I’ve been flying by myself since I was six,” she lied. “My parents have joint custody so I visit Washington a lot. But this is the first time I’ve taken the train. Do you know how the food is? Should I get some snacks before I go? The little bedroom looks so cute, I can’t wait to sleep in it.”

She sounded excited and happy and not at all like a girl who was running away from home. Obviously reassured, the cashier smiled back at her. “Meals are included with the price of the room,” he told her. “You’ll get breakfast and lunch, but you can also get something at the snack car, if you like. Or the food court downstairs has plenty of options.” He passed over her ticket and pointed out the direction to the train through the doorways on either side of the counter, then wished her a pleasant trip.

As she hurried away from the counter, Rachel’s bright smile faded. She headed to the entryway on the right, avoiding the police kiosk on the left. “He might remember me,” she muttered. “That’s bad.”

Dillon looked back, but the cashier wasn’t watching her leave. He’d turned to deal with his next customer and Dillon suspected that he’d half-forgotten Rachel already. Oh, sure, if the police came by with a picture or her image made it onto the news, he might remember. But Rachel had soothed his suspicions perfectly.

For the first time, Dillon began to feel optimistic. Maybe this would work the way it was supposed to.

*****

The elevator doors opened with a ding. A slight cough let Sylvie know they now had witnesses. She pulled away from Lucas, breathless, and turned, cheeks flushed and head high, not meeting the eyes of the people who had been waiting as she stepped out of the elevator. She could feel amused appreciation, though, and the
‘Lucky girl’
from the woman who had coughed came in loud and clear.

She glanced at Lucas as he followed her. His smile was just a little too smug. She batted him in the stomach with her clutch, but he only grinned wider and slipped his hand under her elbow.

Sylvie looked around. The lobby they stood in was decorated for the holidays, with a brightly-lit Christmas tree and festive red ribbons. Glass doors led onto the balcony that she had noticed earlier, while one open interior door clearly led to the party. She took a deep, appreciative breath. She didn’t know exactly what she could smell, but it was food and she was starving.

She led the way into the party and wove a path straight to the buffet table against the wall, Lucas following her. Picking up a plate, she started filling it with abandon. Little cheesy things, check, she’d have two of those. Vegetables, sure, an assortment and some of that dip that looked as if it might be yogurt-based. Stuffed mushrooms, not a chance. Bacon wrapped around a mystery, definitely, although she hoped the inside was nothing too weird. Meat on a skewer, always an easy decision. She added three of the skewers to her plate and turned to Lucas with a smile.

His own smile was gone and he looked almost grim.

“You okay?” she asked, her smile fading. What was wrong with him? The easy joy was gone, replaced with a tension that made her want to wince. He was going to give her a stress headache if he kept that up, she thought crossly.

‘
Sorry
,’ came the thought in reply. ‘
It’s just . . .
’ The words broke off. His thought felt to Sylvie like the broken images of a spinning kaleidoscope, a whirl of colors and sensations.

She blinked at him then glanced around the room. To her, it seemed to be a typical corporate party: too many people, too small a space, voices too bright, stiff conversations and faked smiles, but also some genuine camaraderie and friendships. It was heavily tilted male and, in this room, upper echelon, which made sense for AlecCorp. Most of the younger crowd would be downstairs dancing or, more likely, standing around getting drunk at the open bar.

There was no sign of Chesney, but he was probably holed up in a private office, sharing a whiskey with the other members of the board of directors. If Lucas hoped to discover any useful information, he’d want to stay here until the obligatory appearances and handshakes. Not that he was going to learn anything, anyway. It was ridiculous to think that Chesney would have anything to do with the cartels.

She and Lucas had agreed to mingle, though, and talk about Mexican vacations to see if anyone overhearing them let any unguarded thoughts slip free. If Lucas didn’t pull it together, that was going to be tough to do.

Sylvie popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and bit into it, feeling a visceral satisfaction as the splash of liquid and tang of flavor hit her tongue. Lucas closed his eyes as if in pain. She waited for him to explain what was wrong, but he didn’t say anything as she chewed and swallowed.

And then a dim memory floated to the surface of her mind. They’d gone to a movie together. Some summer blockbuster. Lucas had been strange in the line, but once in the crowded theater, he’d gotten worse. Sylvie held back her sigh, looking down at her plate. Did she have time to eat just a little more?

‘
We forgot about crowds,’
she thought to him, deliberately trying to show him a glimpse of the memory.

‘
Bring the plate,’
he thought back at her. If a thought could sound grumpy, his did. Turning, he led the way back to the door they’d entered through. Sylvie followed, nodding with a hint of apology to the people they were brushing past for the second time.

He went straight to the balcony. Outside, he took a deep breath of the crisp, wintery air as Sylvie shivered and moved to stand in the shelter of the building.

“How can you bear that?” he asked. “It’s so—so chaotic. All those people. All their feelings.”

Sylvie shrugged, picking up one of the chicken skewers. “You get used to it.”

“How?”

She held out the plate for him to take some food as she thought about her answer. “Ever watched a home video of someone at the beach?”

He took one of the cheese puffs but didn’t eat it right away, just holding it as he watched her, his blue eyes dark despite the light from the lobby. “Sure, probably.”

“Sometimes the sound of the ocean is so loud that you can hardly hear the people. But when you’re at the beach, you forget about it. You tune it out. It’s like that for me.”

“The woman next to us was worrying about a sick kid. The guy she was with is cheating on her. He was wondering if he could sneak away to his girlfriend tonight.”

Sylvie nodded. She’d heard them, too. “I don’t usually get their thoughts.”

“I could tell you how every person in that room was feeling,” Lucas continued. “Happy, sad, lonely, frustrated, bored—”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Sylvie interrupted, voice dry. “I felt them, too.” She took a bite of her chicken.

“The young guy by the door?” Lucas asked.

Sylvie swallowed before answering. “Depressed. Or maybe PTSD.” She’d noticed him, too. Quiet, athletic, chatting comfortably to an older man, his polite smile not reaching his eyes. But for her—and for Lucas, too, when he was with her—the black cloud around him was practically visible.

“How can you stand it?”

Sylvie tried again. “It’s like walking into a restaurant and noticing the smells of all the food. Five minutes later, you won’t be able to tell that there’s any smell at all unless you really think about it. You just have to stop paying attention.”

“Neural adaptation.” Lucas finally ate the cheese puff he’d been holding. “Like not feeling your clothes against your skin.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“But it feels like sensory overload to me. As if I used to be blind and suddenly I can see. I don’t know how to process all the emotions at once. It’s too intense.”

“We’ve never spent much time together in crowds. I guess I’m used to the feel of lots of other people. I’ve had plenty of practice.” Being with Lucas added people’s thoughts to the experience, of course, but it didn’t seem to affect Sylvie like the emotions affected Lucas. It wasn’t so different from overhearing conversations, after all. Besides, she could only hear the people closest to them. “Don’t the thoughts bother you?”

He looked thoughtful. “I’m used to them. It’s noisy, but I ignore it most of the time. It’s like background music. I only listen when it catches my attention. You know, I wonder if there are others like you.”

Sylvie raised a brow as she dipped a carrot into the yogurt and crunched down on it.

“Adapt or die, right? If you learn how to stop noticing the same way we all do with sounds or smells or touch, maybe you start taking it for granted. There might be other people who can do what you do who don’t realize that they’re unusual.”

“Maybe,” Sylvie agreed. “They probably get diagnosed with ADD. The inattentive kind.”