“Someone tailed me from the el, all the way through my route.”
“Anything distinctive?”
“No. That’s what creeped me out. It’s third shift and the route is too short for a big team. I did everything I’ve been taught and none of it worked. Sorry.”
Trina waved it off as they climbed the stairs to the el station. “Sometimes I think the talent is getting better in this town.”
“That’s unsettling.” Of course, “talent” probably meant different things to each of them. Her uncle had specialized in programming talent into the genetic code of embryos headed for in vitro fertilization. She shuddered, thinking of what he might have done to Zach if given the chance.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Lorine nodded.
“Does this move have anything to do with Zach’s father?”
“Not at all.” Lorine pleated the strap of her purse. “The man’s most likely dead by now. He was a soldier who got addicted to the juice.” She’d called off the wedding when she’d discovered his addiction to the toxic formula and his inexplicable loyalty to Kristoff. The pregnancy test had turned positive two weeks later.
The substance had terrible side effects, a few were known already, and Lorine intended to work to reveal more in the coming years.
“And you still got pregnant?”
“Yup,” Lorine said with a smile. She considered Zach a miracle, as the health department had admitted a link between juicing and infertility.
Their trip was uneventful, and Lorine felt a little silly for calling in the support. “Maybe it was third-
shift paranoia,” she said as they neared the warehouse.
“Men are paranoid. Women are intuitive.”
Lorine chuckled. “I like that.”
“Professional philosophy. Besides, it’s better to be safe about these things. You’ve got a little one relying on you.”
“Don’t I know it.” Lorine picked up her pace. “I’m going to peek in on him, then sleep for a few hours.”
They passed the sentry doing his best squatter impersonation and entered the long corridor that dropped under the street and into the next building.
When she reached the day care, it took all her resolve not to scoop her son into her arms and cart him back up to their apartment. But she needed rest, and the staff here would keep him entertained in the morning when he woke up full of energy. So she brushed his silky hair behind his ear and indulged in a sentimental moment before she headed out to her own suite.
The lingering glow of maternal joy and the odd twilight of working third shift distracted her so thoroughly, she collided with the person trying to exit the elevator when the doors parted.
Big palms landed hot and heavy on her shoulders. “Steady, there,” Jim said.
“Ex-excuse me,” she stammered, going stiff under the touch. She felt her face heating with embarrassment. How long had it been since a man had touched her? “Lost in thought.” She tried to smile, but knew the relief was all too obvious when he lifted his hands.
“Me, too.” Jim shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was just doing the last rounds. The boss says I’ll be helping you move.”
He was built like Zach’s dad. Too big, too much . . . everything. She suspected he’d been a soldier, though no one in Slick Micky’s employ was addicted to anything stronger than full-caff coffee.
“Oh?” She cleared her throat. Jim defined safe and trustworthy. Micky had told her he’d arrange for help, she just hadn’t expected him to assign the head of security. “Thank you. There isn’t much.” She skirted around him to call the elevator back.
“Whatever you need.”
“I, uh, appreciate that.” When would the door open, and why was she acting like an idiot?
Jim tipped his head in the direction of the day care. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “He always has a blast with everyone there.”
Jim cleared his throat, but the elevator’s arrival stopped whatever he might have said.
Making sure she didn’t repeat her collision with someone else, Lorine paused before stepping inside.
“I guess I’ll see you soon.”
Jim nodded.
Two
Knowing the place was wired from the rooftop atrium to the second sub-basement, Jim wondered if the boss had used the elevator to interrupt him when he was talking with Lorine.
He wasn’t going to talk her out of moving. Well, he wasn’t going to push the issue. Not really. He’d been hoping to get some information about the boy. Any information would be better than nothing, and yet the boss was essentially sending him in blind.
Why?
When Lorine had requested a protective escort after her shift, Jim was pleased she had trusted her instincts, even if it was likely Trina who’d set her off. Why wouldn’t his sixth sense cooperate?
He stopped at the wide windows of the day care. The playroom would soon be lit up, and kids would come and go according to their mothers’ schedules.
Who would help Lorine when she was out there on her own?
He started to turn away when a movement caught his eye. Lorine’s boy came wandering into the dim playroom. He had the floppy bunny by the ears in one little fist, while the other rubbed at his eye. He stopped directly in front of Jim and tipped his head up.
“Sir?” he said, with a salute, like a soldier reporting for duty.
What the hell? Hiding his uncertainty behind his years of training, Jim dropped to one knee and looked the little guy in the eye. “Just checking in. Go back to bed. And stay there.”
The boy nodded, did a perfect about-face, and toddled off.
Jim got to his feet, heart hammering against his ribcage. That was no ordinary little boy. Granted, he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore. Juicing had changed him, in a mostly beneficial way. But the kid obviously hadn’t served in the military, and Jim hadn’t juiced since he’d left the service.
Taking the stairs down to his apartment, he tried to tell himself it was coincidence. The little guy woke up, saw a grown-up and did the normal thing for a polite, outgoing kid. But that wasn’t normal.
Micky’s warning about keeping the kid safe echoed in his head. Jim had witnessed soldiers caught up by the mind-control side effect. Nothing inside him had ever responded to an internal summons nor summoned another person, but he’d added signal jammers to the warehouse security plan anyway.
Precognitive episodes of potential danger were plenty to deal with. The nasty stuff interacted with every soldier differently. Was he changing? Or was there something in the kid that was programmed to respond to soldiers?
Lorine dreamed of church bells pealing happily, then growing more insistent. Soon her subconscious gave up the fight and she recognized the sound of the comm system.
Bolting upright, she reached for the monitor, a mother’s worry pounding in her heart when she saw the day care on the display. “Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Annie here. Zach’s fine. I hate to bother you.” Lorine blinked until Annie’s face came into view. “He refuses to get out of bed. I was hoping you could say something. It’s no big deal. But, this just isn’t like him.”
Lorine agreed. Zach rarely disobeyed. “I’ll be right there.”
She tugged jeans on under her nightshirt and grabbed shoes and a cardigan to put on in the elevator.
Telling herself not to panic didn’t help. Three-year-olds had ornery moments. Not even the best scientists could completely explain what went on in their developing brains.
Racing in would only scare the other kids and add credence to the chaotic thoughts churning through her brain. She pasted a smile on her face as she entered the day care.