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Zach pulled his car into the Post’s parking garage, found a spot, killed the engine and thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Where the fuck was she? He tried her home number again. No signal flashed a message. Too far underground. He caught an elevator to the 14th floor.
Howard was storing his papers away in a knee-high filing cabinet beside him, the desk already clear of the usual debris. Zach nodded a greeting, pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. His cell working now, he called her home number. It rang forever. He tried her cell again, got the message again. Is she okay? Is she alive, even? Howard would know, Howard knew almost everything in the world.
“Howard, help me out here,” Zach said. “How do you find out if someone is alive or dead?”
“Try the Social Security site,” Howard replied. “They have a Death Index.”
“I was thinking of something more immediate than that. Like a ‘who died today’ sort of thing.”
“Gee, that’s a tough one. Hospitals?”
“Tried them, no result.”
“The police?”
“Tried them, they lacked warmth and understanding.”
Howard grinned. “Recognized your name, did they?”
“Something like that. Look, this is serious. Keera’s gone missing, nobody knows anything and I’m going crazy.”
Howard raised an eyebrow. “Missing? Since when?”
“Not sure, sometime this afternoon. She was to call me and she hasn’t. She’s not home, but her handbag is. Vodka bottles on the coffee table, enough glasses for three or four visitors and, and …”
“You suspect bad things have happened? Based on that evidence?”
“I see no other conclusion.”
“You think a bunch of people snatched her?” Howard incredulous.
“Jesus, don’t say it like that. Makes my skin crawl.” Images of porn movies, filled with sadism and pain, snuff movies for God’s sake, unreeled in his head. He felt the rat at his stomach again.
“What makes you so worried? Keera probably got caught in something urgent. She’ll call you soon, I’m sure.”
“I’m not. This is so out of character. The handbag, hell, it’s unnatural to leave it behind.”
“It’s a sticking point, true, can’t be dismissed.” Howard tapped a pencil on his desk. “You have no faith in the police to investigate?”
“They’re so slow, won’t act for twenty-four hours. I’m going to go crazy waiting.”
“You said once Keera was psychic? She teach you any techniques? Could be useful now.”
Zach took a breath, blew it out. “Take a guess. You think I’m into that stuff?”
“You’re hanging out with someone who is.”
“I’m … drawn to her.”
“So, if you infiltrated a Ku Klux Klan meeting, would you be drawn to a white supremacist?”
“Okay, okay, I get your point. Let’s stick to the topic. How would I contact her if I was psychically … up there?”
“You don’t have to be advanced in this,” Howard said. “You just have to be in tune, able to receive.”
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The Upside of Death
الخوارقPsychics don't get kidnapped: they're supposed to be smarter than that. Keera Miles blames herself for not staying psychically awake and dodging this disaster. Now, she's forced to watch and wait as her captors' plans to extract money from her wealt...
