Power Trip(23)

She wasn’t worried about losing her work; her data was stored online. She could get to it from anywhere, but the laptop was an expensive piece of equipment, not something that could be quickly or easily replaced without a lot of explanation and groveling. If it wasn’t in her office, her car or her house, she was going to have to assume it had been stolen—and tell Peter. Why would anyone want a laptop that was password and fingerprint protected? Could they wipe the hard drive and start over?

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and sighed, deciding she didn’t have enough time to stop at home before lunch. Her stomach tightened, both from worry over the missing computer and anxiety over possibly meeting her father. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe it was absolutely him without proof, especially since all of her communication with Michael Fallon had been via e-mail. Would he look like the pictures from her childhood? There weren’t that many of them, but she treasured every one, in spite of the fact he had abandoned them.

Audrey glanced at the numbers on the buildings as she cruised past them. She spotted Bonfire and slowed to check it out. She had expected something a little fancier. She could see through the front windows that the restaurant was nearly empty and it looked a lot like a warehouse, but not in the upscale, exposed beams and ducts way—more like in the underfunded interior decorator way. The street was silent and nearly deserted too.

She parked on the street and walked into the restaurant, surprised to see her perpetually late brother was already seated. She sat down at his table. “You’re early.”

“We need to talk.”

“Damn straight. Why didn’t you tell me there are other talents in Hudson?” She looked up at the approaching waitress. “Water, please.”

The server left and Audrey crossed her arms, waiting.

Jake fiddled with his wraparound shades. “I heard you got attacked last night.”

She glared at him. “That’s not an answer—wait, you talked to Cal?”

“And Sam. The Doc too.”

They both ignored the waitress who set a glass of water in front of her, then mumbled something about giving them a few minutes.

Jake raised his face. “You’re a neutral, Audrey. That’s why I can’t whammy you. I didn’t tell you about the other talents because I didn’t want you to find out you’re talented too.”

Betrayal made her feel hollow. She’d grown up feeling like an also-ran and he’d known she was talented the whole time? Jake’s eyes were hidden, but she hoped he could see the anger and hurt in hers. Her mind raced ahead, trying to connect the dots, but fury trumped logic. She reached across the table and punched him hard in the chest. His chair scooted back two inches and he grunted. “Guess you’re mad, huh?” he asked.

“Damn right I am.” If she hadn’t been sitting, that blow would have knocked him out of his chair.

“Don’t be like that.” Jake’s mouth was pinched, making him look like a pissed-off snapping turtle. “I’ve never shared your desire to know the scumbag who left his family on Welfare—”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“Yes it is, and if you can the attitude for five seconds I’ll tell you why.”

She closed her eyes. It took effort to master the urge to hit him again. When she opened her eyes, his expression had softened. “I whammied Charlotte,” he said.

Audrey gasped. Their foster mother was going to freak.

“Only a little. She didn’t know I was doing it.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know more about our father.”

She did too. “What did you find out?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. So I went to see Mom this morning.”

Audrey felt sick. “Oh, Jake, you know how upset she gets when she sees us.”

“She didn’t recognize me, Aud.” The sorrow in his eyes punched a hole in her heart. “And she doesn’t remember anything about our father.” Of course not—Alzheimer’s had stripped her brain, year by year, starting when Audrey was two and Jake was five. Even then she had been unwilling to talk about the man who had fathered her children, then disappeared into thin air. “Here, I stole her chart for you.”

“Jake!”

He shrugged. “It’s a copy.”

She opened to the first page, shaking her head, not wanting to know how many hospital employees he’d had to whammy to waltz into the nurses’ station and copy a chart that spanned twenty-five years. But she knew Jake wouldn’t have swiped it without a reason. “Aluminum?” she asked, with dawning horror.