Freak (18 page)

“Am I suspended or not?” Tom asked, leaning back in his chair. His shoulder twinged and he managed, somehow, not to wince.

Vance took a deep breath and looked at Freelander. The smaller man took a sip of his water and placed the glass down on the table.

“Under normal circumstances a suspension would be in order, but these are not normal circumstances,” he said. “The internal affairs committee has reviewed your reports and the statements of several agents and has determined that it would be against this country's interests to deactivate you at this juncture.”

Tom held his breath, uncertain if he should allow himself to believe what he'd just heard.

“What?” Frenz blurted, leaning forward to see Freelander past Vance's sizable frame. “How is he not suspended?”

“Agent Frenz,” Vance snapped, holding up a hand. Frenz sat back in his seat, petulant. Tom tried not to
smile. “Agent Moore, you will be taking the rest of the week off, however, and this time I will not be calling you to come back in. I suggest you take these few days to relax, spend some time with your daughter, and not do anything stupid.”

“You can count on it, sir,” Tom said, letting the grin break through.

He stood slowly as Frenz and Freelander exited the room. He flinched in surprise when Vance extended his arm across the table. There was a split second of hesitation before Tom lifted his left hand and shook with his superior.

“Good work, Moore,” Vance said.

“Thank you, sir,” Tom replied.

Vance pulled his hand back and straightened his suit jacket. “I never said that,” he warned.

“Of course not, sir.”

“We'll see you next week,” Vance told him, holding the door open for Tom.

“Yes you will,” Tom replied. As he slid by Vance, turning sideways instinctively to protect his broken arm, Tom lifted his chin. In the end, the meeting had gone better than he'd imagined. And now he had a few days off to do with them what he wanted. He didn't even have to think twice to know what that was.

“Spend some time with your daughter,”
he thought, recalling Vance's words as he headed for the nearest exit.
I like the sound of that.

Repentance

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?
Sam wondered, pressing his back up against the armrest on the wooden bench in Prospect Park as he watched Oliver approach. The moment Sam laid eyes on the man his throat filled with bile and his veins with hatred and fear. He had chosen the park because it was a public place—always crowded on spring days like this one with joggers and stroller-pushing mothers and cops on horseback. But even with the dozens of people milling around within a hundred-yard radius, Sam suddenly felt alone. Utterly alone—just like he had for those months he'd spent in this bastard's excuse for a prison.

“Sam,” Oliver said, stopping next to the bench. He wore a new-looking black trench coat over gray pants and a white shirt. His expression was unreadable, his eyes soft.

God, I hope he doesn't try to squeeze out a few tears,
Sam thought, fighting against the sickness in his throat.
Why did I ever say I would do this?

“Gaia and I are both grateful that you agreed to meet me.”

Right. Because of Gaia.

“Let's get this over with,” Sam told him, gratefully spotting a uniformed police officer at the far end of
the winding path their bench fronted. “Say what you've got to say.”

Oliver tucked his coat under himself and sat down next to Sam. If there were any way to move farther away from the psycho, Sam would have. But as it was, he was trapped. All he could do was hope that the apology, or whatever this was, would be short and sweet.

Unfortunately, the silence started to drag. Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out a large coin—one of those old, rare, fifty-cent pieces—and started to roll it over, end over end, on top of his fingers. Sam stared at the movement of the coin, mesmerized by the agility it took to control it. Then the man's leg started to bounce up and down and Sam snapped out of his momentary trance.

“Look, if you've got nothing to say,” he said, starting to get up.

“Sit down!” Oliver snapped, his voice harsh.

A cold, blasting chill shot through Sam. Against his better judgment he fell back onto the bench—mostly because his leg muscles ceased to work the moment the man exploded. That was not the voice of a repentant man. It wasn't even the voice of a man who wanted to
fake
repentance.

Sam swallowed hard. He watched the coin spin faster and faster. Watched the leg twitch spasmodically. From the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on the cop's position.

“Oliver,” he said quietly. “I've . . . never seen anyone do that with a coin before.”

Instantly, the coin stopped. It fell flat on top of Oliver's fingers. The man looked down at it as if he'd never seen it before. The leg stopped moving. Oliver's brows knit together. He pocketed the coin and looked up at Sam.

“I hadn't even realized I was doing that,” he said apologetically. “Nervous habit, I suppose.”

Sam nodded, attempting to keep the shivers that were coursing through him like waves at bay. There was something frightening going on here. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but this man did not seem to be the person Gaia thought he was.

“I've asked you here today to tell you that I am deeply sorry for everything I've done,” Oliver said, looking Sam in the eye. “To you, to Gaia, to everyone who had the misfortune of coming into contact with—”

Don't say it. Don't say it,
Sam told himself. But he had to. He had to find out if he was right.

“With Loki,” he finished.

Immediately, the coin came out again. The flipping resumed. The leg began to twitch. Oliver, Loki, whoever the hell he was, stared out across the park toward the nearby woods, his eyes narrowing into slits.

It's him,
Sam thought, the fear like knives to his skull and heart.
He's back. He's coming back.

“I've got to go,” Sam said, standing quickly this time.

“Where, Sam?” the man asked, his voice entirely
different than it had been moments before. He sounded amused—venomously amused. “Where do you think you're going?”

But this time, Sam wasn't stupid enough to pause. He took off in the direction of the police officer even though his apartment was on the opposite end of the park. His instinct was to be as close to as much protection as humanly possible, just in case.

Nothing happened, however. Loki didn't chase him. He didn't try to gun him down. He just let Sam go, his pulse racing the whole way. As soon as Sam reached the edge of the park and acknowledged his good fortune in still being alive, he turned his steps toward the subway, checking over his shoulder every few seconds until he could have given himself whiplash.

I have to warn Gaia,
he thought, his pace quickening.
I have to warn her that Loki is back.

Possibilities

“OLIVER KICKS ASS. I MEAN,
literally. That man is the Terminator,” Jake said, putting his feet up on the just-delivered wooden coffee table at Gaia's apartment. “You should have seen
how quick he took down those two guys at Yuri's. I hope I'm still that good when I'm old.”

“Jake?” Gaia said.

“Yeah?” he asked, crooking his arms behind his head as he leaned back.

“You're doing it again. The rambling thing,” Gaia told him.

“Sorry. Won't happen again,” Jake joked.

As Gaia scooched down into the couch until she was almost at eye level with her feet up next to Jake's, he leaned over and planted a kiss right on her mouth. Gaia's heart did a few million somersaults. Jake slumped back next to her, smiling. If Gaia wasn't so happy she knew the both of them would have been making her sick right now.

“Are we going to watch this movie or what?” Jake asked.

Gaia grabbed the remote and started the DVD player. She'd only agreed to watch Jake's favorite movie,
The Fast and the Furious,
when he'd told her she could crack as many jokes as she wished during the viewing. But even though the choice of film was less than optimal, Gaia couldn't help smiling as the credits started to roll.

This was so normal, vegging on the couch watching a movie on a Tuesday afternoon after school. When, exactly, was she going to wake up from this?

There was a knock on the door and Gaia and Jake exchanged a look.

“Gaia, it's Sam.”

Jake rolled his eyes and Gaia jumped up from the couch. She knew that Sam and Oliver were supposed to meet this afternoon and she'd fully expected a rundown phone call from one or both of them later this evening, but a drop-by was a surprise. Gaia glanced through the open kitchen door as she passed it, checking out the microwave clock. It was only 4:45 and they were supposed to be meeting at four. How had Sam gotten here so fast?

“Hey,” she said, opening the door. “What's up?”

The two-word question was barely out of her mouth when Sam had passed right by her and into the living room. Gaia let the door slam and followed. Jake pushed himself off the couch and faced Sam as he entered the room.

Great. Just what I needed to puncture the mood,
Gaia thought.
A little more macho posturing.

Jake picked up the remote and paused the already noisy movie. For a moment, Gaia stood behind Sam, uncertain of how to proceed, feeling guilty over interrupting a private moment with another guy. But then she reminded herself that however her heart felt at this moment she'd already made a decision to start over. With Jake. And there was no reason to hide that.

It was her life. Her decision.

She walked around the L-shaped extension of the
couch and joined Jake on the other side, standing next to him.

“You guys remember each other, right?” she said, the words coming out in a speedy jumble.

“Sam, right?” Jake said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're Jake,” Sam said. His gaze only rested on the other guy for a second before flicking to Gaia. “Can I talk to you alone?”

Gaia could see that Sam was scared. She gave Jake a guilt-filled glance, then led Sam down the hall toward her room. She paused just outside the door and looked Sam in the eye.

“What happened?” she asked in a whisper.

“Loki is reemerging,” Sam told her quietly, his eyes darting toward the living room.

Gaia scoffed. “Not possible.”

“Gaia, you know I wouldn't lie to you about this,” Sam implored, sounding desperate. “We were sitting in Prospect Park and he kept zoning out. And whenever he did he started twitching and . . . and he was playing with this coin, all methodical . . . you know? It was scary.”

Gaia felt as if she'd just swallowed something too hot too fast. But she shook it off. This was not possible. Oliver was Oliver now. But Sam's green eyes were pleading with her, begging her to believe him—maybe even to help him. And why not? He was terrified of being imprisoned again. Or worse.

Suddenly Gaia knew that she'd done the wrong
thing when she'd sent Sam to meet with Oliver. It was all there again—right on the surface—the hopeless hours, the beatings, the agony of being caged up like a worthless animal. Sam looked tortured again. She felt it within her own heart.

“Sam . . . I . . . I'm so sorry,” Gaia said. “I shouldn't have made you go.”

“It doesn't matter,” Sam told her. He reached for her hands and held them both in hers. Gaia resisted the urge to look toward the living room. What would Jake think if he saw this? “It doesn't matter,” Sam repeated. “I just wanted to warn you. Loki's back. You have to do something. You have to protect yourself.”

The sincerity behind his concern touched Gaia, but she knew it was unfounded. She was safe now. They all were. Sam had to get used to it as she had.

“Sam, it's going to be okay,” Gaia said. “Nothing's going to happen to you.”

Sam took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “You don't believe me, do you?”

“I . . . can't,” Gaia said.

“Fine,” Sam said, nodding. He pressed his lips together and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Just be careful.”

Then he reached out and touched her cheek, his palm cupping her face. Gaia's skin tingled with warmth. Seconds later he was gone, walking off down the hall. She waited until she heard the front door close before rejoining Jake in the living room.

“What was that all about?” Jake asked flatly.

“Nothing,” Gaia told him. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Isn't that my job now?” Jake asked, point-blank. No double-talk. No games.

“It's always kind of been
my
job,” Gaia told him.

Jake cracked a smile, reached out, and grabbed her hand. He pulled her down onto the couch and into his side.

“Well, now you have an assistant,” he said, laying his arm on top of hers.

Jake's attitude toward Sam was comforting. He wasn't going to walk out on her for having a past that kept rearing its dramatic head. Jake Montone could take it.

“So, are we going to watch this movie or what? I hate late fees.” He picked up the remote again. Gaia sighed and allowed her cheek to lean into his chest. As ridiculously tricked-out cars screeched across the screen, she told herself to forget about Sam. He'd readjust. He'd be okay. And so would she. They would all be just fine.

It was time to stop dwelling on other people's feelings. It was time to stop thinking about what might happen tomorrow or next week or next month. For the first time she could remember, life and all its possibilities were open to her.

Gaia Moore was ready to start living.