“Not even that.” Daniel shot a look at Eli, who seemed to be staring quite intently out of the window. “I would have said adolescents, teenagers, were too much of a risk, but Finn said you’d noticed much younger kids transforming.”
“What was the other thing?”
“Lin said Wright wanted a bottle of water to take some pills and complained about the time she took on the phone. Something about someone’s birthday. I think we need to check that call. See if the story about the pills fit. Check there was no water in the car.”
“Are you saying you think she could have been giving someone a chance to trace their location? But…” Talon trailed off, not voicing the thought that it didn’t make sense. She had been killed.
“There’s something else,” Eli said suddenly.
Daniel glanced over, trying not to show surprise Eli was taking part in the conversation.
“Lin went inside when according to him he was pissed at Wright taking so long. Why didn’t he just ask her to get him some water or go back to the car?”
“I think we need to look at the tape again,” Daniel confirmed. “Lin told us they got a call from the airport police to say they’d seen that witness, but another barely five minutes later saying they’d lost him again. Why is he keeping this information to himself? And he also told us there’s an enhanced working at the club.”
“I’ll check the employment records, but there are a lot of contractors finishing off the interior.”
Are we any further forward identifying the customer in the gloves?”
“No,” Talon said. Then there was a pause. “You had any more incidents?” It was obvious he was talking to Eli.
“Some,” admitted Eli. “But nothing that hurt, just vague impressions, and nothing to do with the case.”
“Okay,” Talon said. “I want you to knock off early. I know you were okay after the incident today, but I don’t want you on your own.” Talon didn’t wait for anyone to argue. “The ER docs that took the bullet out of Lin say the wound was messy.”
“Is that unusual?” Eli asked.
“It might mean the bullet didn’t hit Lin first. If it struck the wall or the door first, it often causes ‘rolling’ similar to barrel rolls. They call it ‘chaotic’ apparently, but they will test the bullet, and they took fragments,” Daniel answered before Talon got the chance to.
Daniel noticed a small smile on Eli’s lips as Talon hung up. “What?”
Eli shrugged. “You remind me of Finn.”
Daniel tried to look horrified.
Eli grinned. “You know stuff.”
They drove home mostly in silence, but Talon’s words were still rolling around in his head, and Daniel wanted to know what Eli had meant. “What other incidents?” Eli didn’t turn his gaze from the window. “If your abilities are altering, it’s something—as your partner—I need to know.” There, that sounded reasonable.
Daniel didn’t think Eli was going to answer him for a long time, but then he glanced at him. Eli’s gaze was measured. As if he was studying Daniel, trying to work him out. “The sketch artist yesterday?”
Daniel tried not to show his surprise and slowed for some lights. “Janice Clark?”
Eli nodded. “She’d just lost a dog.”
Daniel tried not to gape, but— “A dog?”
“A pet. When she shook my hand, I felt her sadness, but for a second, maybe two, it was like it was in the room.” Eli frowned. “It was like I could feel it, sense it.”
“Wow,” Daniel said and cursed as the car behind him honked at him for not moving when the lights changed. “Are you saying you actually saw the dog? Like what sort it was?”
“No.” Eli tilted his head like he was thinking, and Daniel bit off another question so he wasn’t interrupting. “This is going to sound nuts, but have you ever felt something so strongly you could almost see it, visualize it?”
Daniel didn’t want to shake his head and have it come off as dismissive. “I think that might take a greater amount of empathy than I have.”
Eli looked surprised. “Empathy?”
“Yeah. It sounds like you feel things very strongly.”
Eli laughed shortly. “One of my therapists called me emotionally barren.” He flushed then, and Daniel knew he hadn’t meant to say that.
“No,” Daniel said carefully. What he wanted to do was yell what the fuck and get the number of the therapist so he could make a complaint, but he didn’t, because that wouldn’t help either of them. “I think you are simply trying to protect yourself.” A beat went by.
“Maybe,” Eli allowed.
“It also demonstrates the degree of pain you feel might be in direct correlation to the degree of trauma the victim has suffered.”
El sighed but nodded in acknowledgement. There was nothing else said on the way back to Daniel’s apartment, but the silence in the car was easy.
Daniel walked straight into his kitchen and opened the fridge, not entirely sure he was hungry, but knowing they would need to eat.
“I can cook,” Eli said, and Daniel glanced back at him where he stood holding the battered suitcase Sawyer had given him that morning.
“How about if I heat up something while you get unpacked?”
Eli didn’t answer, but he walked to the bedroom, so he must have been okay with it. He poured a couple of orange juices and loaded a tray with some chicken his mom made, then followed Eli to the bedroom intending to talk while Eli unpacked. The door was open, so Daniel walked in just as Eli was coming out of the bathroom. Daniel put the tray on the dresser, picked up an orange juice and a plate, and perched on the bed. There were no chairs in here, just an old dresser of Jacob’s.
Daniel nodded to the tray. “Help yourself.”
Eli nodded and reached for the orange juice, then pause. Daniel waited a few seconds, but Eli just picked up some fried chicken. He nodded to the juice. “It’s not poisoned.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Daniel could have slapped himself. He’d been trying for light-hearted humor and just managed insensitive and thoughtless. “Shit,” he swore. “I’m sorry.”
Eli glanced up at him but then walked to the bed and sat down. “It’s not you.”
Daniel kept his mouth closed and waited. Hoping for more. Eli shuffled so he had his back to the headboard. Daniel was at the foot, so there was about five feet between them. It felt like fifty.
“It was one of his tricks.”
Daniel took an educated guess. “Drugging you?” But what sort of fight would a seven-year-old be able to put up anyway?
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, and Daniel wanted to say it didn’t matter. That he didn’t need to tell Daniel, that he would make sure there were always sealed bottles of orange juice in the fridge along with the water.
“The first time.” Eli swallowed. “He used to have what they called talent nights. There were—at the most—four of us. We were supposed to do something. Sing maybe. You know the sort of thing. Except—” Eli paused. “It wasn’t—” He clamped his lips together. Daniel could see his throat working. Daniel wanted to tell him to stop, that he didn’t need to know, and the only thing that stopped him was the thought that Eli might need to tell someone, anyone.