Tabula Rasa

Chapter 9

For the hundredth time since finding the note, Matt brushed his thumb over the bumps, reading the missive again and again:

Thank you Matthew.

Three simple words.

Not the most verbose message he'd ever received. Nor the most life-altering.

But it was written in Braille.

Painstakingly rendered...just for him.

Calina had, once again, taken the time to relate to him on his level. To share his world in a small way.

And as he 'read' the words again - appreciating as he did so the effort and skill involved in free-styling such a message - he pondered the mystery of Calina Balashova.

He didn't know what to make of her.

When he'd first met her, he'd thought her cold. Beautiful...but aloof. Unfriendly.

But then, in a moment of vulnerability on a star-canopied rooftop, she'd given him a glimpse of the hurt that haunted her. On their walk from the library, she'd shown her thoughtfulness. And last night, she'd let down her guard and babbled about physics while sipping on hot chocolate, her face lighting up with each taste of the drink.

He'd started the night so suspicious of her - and with good reason, given the bruises on her body and the smell of a weapon on her hands. But by the end, he'd laid down on his bed less than a dozen feet from her, and slept soundly.

So soundly that he hadn't heard her leave.

He turned the note over in his hands, playing with the small scrap of paper, the final clue that his initial impression of her had been so completely off-base. With this small but meaningful act of gratitude she had shown herself to be caring. Considerate.

And skilled in Braille.

How the hell did she know Braille?

And where had she really been the past week?

What had she been doing?!

Matt groaned, and flung the note onto his desk.

"You alright"? Foggy called out from his office.

"Yeah," Matt replied. "Just..."

"What?" Foggy's voice was closer now. Matt looked up to see him standing in the doorway of his office. "Is it the case?"

"Huh?"

Foggy gestured to Matt's ear. And Matt realised the transcript of the police interview was still playing through the headphone in his right ear. The droning voice had been easy to tune out as his thoughts had strayed to the woman who confounded him.

Matt yanked out the earpiece and dropped it onto the desk. "No. Sorry. I'm just distracted this morning."

"Is it Calina? Is she still missing?"

"Actually no. She came home last night."

"Really?" Foggy sat in the chair opposite Matt's desk. "Did you speak to her?"

"Yeah. She said she was on vacation."

Foggy smiled. "Well there you go. I told you it would be something normal like that." He frowned. "Unless she was lying..."

"She was," Matt said. "But I couldn't tell."

"What do you mean?"

Matt got to his feet and paced the small space between his desk and his window, hands on his hips. "I mean that she can lie to me, Foggy. Her heartbeat doesn't change, her breathing is steady, there's nothing. No sign that she's lying, but she is. I know it."