Was I remembering something she had said while we were fighting? As she was shattering me?
Fear clenched at me. I started digging through the mess in the flat for a scrap of paper, tossing bottles and food wrappers and dirty clothes to the side while I repeated the word in my head over and over, afraid it would fade away again before I snatched the chance to write it down. I found an old envelope and a half-dried ballpoint and scribbled faster than I could form the words in my head:
HALBERD. THIS MEANS SOMETHING IMPORTANT. FIND OUT.
The sentences floated in front of my vision: mad, mocking, absurd. They meant nothing.
Stupid. I crumpled the envelope in my hand.
Then, for some reason, I smoothed it back out and put it in a drawer. Halberd did have something to do with Pithica, after all; Anton’s memo had shown that much. Foolish to think it was anything more than that, and I wouldn’t be able to look into it anyway after what Dawna had done, but still…it had to mean something.
For some reason, I shivered.
I needed a drink. Yes. Large amounts of alcohol sounded perfect right now. Something in me needed to get royally drunk and pass out for about three days. Good plan.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I yanked it open to reveal Arthur, his hand raised to knock.
“Arthur,” I said, surprised. “Hi.”
“Hi, Russell,” he said.
We stood awkwardly for a moment.
Arthur waved a hand apologetically. “Tried calling.”
Phones. Right. I felt around in my pockets and found my latest cell phone. A blank screen stared back at me, and I vaguely remembered getting annoyed with the ringing a few days ago and turning it off. I hit the power button and saw a message proclaiming fourteen missed calls.
Oops. “Sorry,” I said. “You need something?”
To my surprise, he chuckled. He had a very handsome smile. “Russell, you remind me of someone I knew once. Someone who’s a damn smart cookie like you, and almost as prickly.”
“Huh?”
“Mind if I come in for a minute?”
“Sure, whatever.” I let the door swing all the way open and led the way in to flop on the saggy couch. Arthur sat down next to me. His eyes took in the forest of empty liquor bottles, but he didn’t say anything, and I told myself I didn’t care about his opinion anyway. “So? What’s up?” I asked.
He looked like he was searching for words. “Checker’s back,” he said finally. “Just been to say hello.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good.”
“You okay?” he asked. Oddly, he sounded like he cared about the answer. In fact, I was struck with the strong impression that he had come all the way here to…well, to check in on me. What the hell?
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Really?” He laughed a little hoarsely. “’Cause I ain’t.”
Was he trying to confide in me? “I guess I’m just waiting for life to get back to normal,” I said. It sort of already was, for me. Except for the dreams. But maybe those were normal, too. I was having trouble remembering.
“Ain’t worked any case but this in six months,” said Arthur. “Gonna be weird, going back to doing background checks and divorce cases.”
“The exciting life of a private eye?” Boy, was I glad I didn’t have his job.
He snorted. “Yeah, ‘exciting’ ain’t exactly the word for it. Usually, anyway. I work enough to take on pro bono cases for them that need it, though—those are always the better ones. Still not much excitement, but fulfilling, you know?”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this. “Sure,” I said.
“Can’t get it all out of my head, though,” he continued. “What she did to us. I ain’t fond of being someone’s puppet.” The edge of steel in those words might have made even Dawna think twice, if she hadn’t already beaten us.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me neither.”
“I can’t…” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Everything I remember thinking, it made so much sense at the time. Still makes sense, if I’m honest. But there’s something in me that knows chunks of it ain’t me at all…and I still ain’t rightly sure which all those chunks are; I just know they gotta be there. Think that’s what scares me the most, still not knowing what was me and what was her.”
“I’m pretty sure you pointing a gun at me was all Dawna,” I said.
“Which time?”
We laughed a little at that, even though it wasn’t funny.
“Ain’t my usual habit, you know,” Arthur said. “Greeting people barrel first. You didn’t catch me in my best week.”
“Well, I don’t usually knock people unconscious to introduce myself, either,” I said.
He affected surprise. “You don’t?”
I punched him in the shoulder. Only a little harder than necessary.
“Ow!” He gave me a mock glare, rubbing his arm, and then got serious again. “Listen. Been thinking about something. Dawna—when she had us prisoner, she talked to us, both of us, for a long time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, she did.”
“How do we know…how do we know there ain’t more?”
“You mean, how do we know that we don’t have, what, sleeper personalities or something? That what we’re thinking might not be our own thoughts anymore?”
“Something like that.”
I looked down at my hands. I wasn’t going to say it hadn’t occurred to me. “I don’t think it would be worth it to them,” I said. “That level of control. She got what she wanted from us, and—well, even at the end we weren’t under her total control, yeah?”
“You weren’t,” he said softly.
“Neither were you,” I pointed out. “You didn’t give us away until we pushed you to it. And at the last minute, you took your gun off line—when it mattered.”
“Barely.”
“You knew it would give me the window.”
He nodded, conceding the point. “Hey, about that. What you can do. It’s pretty special, ain’t it?”
The question caught me off guard. I tried to keep my face neutral. “What do you mean, what I can do?”
He chuckled. “I got eyes, Russell.”
“I’m good at math,” I said. “That’s all.”
He squinted at me, still smiling slightly. “You gotta tell me how that works sometime.”
“Sometime,” I agreed vaguely.
The moment of levity faded, and Arthur looked down again. “We really can’t be sure, can we?” he said after a moment. “Could be some small way. A thousand little bits she might’ve changed. Maybe we say she had a miss with us at the end there, but still…we don’t know what else she might’ve done.”
“No,” I said. “I guess we don’t.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, what can we do?” I pointed out.
Arthur took a deep breath. “Keep making the best decisions we can, I guess.”
And hope that nothing had wormed its way into our brains, ticking like a time bomb, waiting to make us betray ourselves. I wasn’t happy about it either. But we had no way to know.
“What if we watch each other?” I said suddenly. “It’s not foolproof, but it’s how—well, Rio could tell, with me. We can keep in contact, warn each other if we get crazy.”
He pulled a face. “Looking for excess crazy? How will I know?”
I punched him in the arm again.
“Hey!” He gave me a gentle shove in return. “Y’know, it’s a good idea. Better than nothing, for sure. You got my cell number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay in touch, then. You know, call me, let me know you’re okay. Or you can always pick up when I ring. Can’t watch for excess crazy if we don’t talk regular.” He grinned at me, then reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Russell.”