“Worried for their safety?” asked Mitch. Victor had been thinking more about using them as bait, but he didn’t say it, not in front of Sydney.
“Limit the search to the last year, keep it in-state, and look for flags,” he said, trying to summon Eli’s thesis work. He’d prattled on about markers once or twice, in the spaces between other topics. “Search police reports, work evaluations, school and medical records. Search for any sign of near death experience—it will probably be classified under trauma—psychological instability in the aftermath, odd behavior, leave of absence, discrepancies in records made by shrinks, uncertainty in records made by cops…” He began to pace again. “And while you’re at it, get Serena Clarke’s school records, her class schedule. If Eli’s tied himself to her in some way, then it might be easier to find her than him.”
“Aren’t all those records classified?” asked Sydney.
Mitch beamed and flicked open his laptop, settling in at the counter.
“Mitchell,” said Victor. “Tell Sydney what you were in prison for.”
“Hacking,” he said cheerfully.
Sydney laughed. “Seriously? I had you pegged as more of a beat-someone-to-death-with-their-own-arm type.”
“I’ve always been big,” said Mitch. “That’s not my fault.” He cracked his knuckles again. His hands were larger than the keyboard.
“And the tattoos?”
“It’s best to look the part.”
“Victor doesn’t look the part.”
“Depends on what part you’re going for. He cleans up well.”
Victor wasn’t listening. He was still pacing.
Eli was close. Eli was in this city. Or had been. What on earth could Sydney’s sister do, that he had found her so valuable? If Eli was executing EOs, why had he spared Serena? Victor was glad he had, though. She had given him a reason to stay in Merit, and he needed Eli tethered. Mitch’s large fingers were a blur across the keyboard. Window after window unfolded on his sleek black screen. Victor couldn’t stop pacing. He knew the search would take time, but the air was humming, and he couldn’t will his feet to stop, couldn’t force himself to find stillness, to find peace, not now when Eli was finally in reach. He needed freedom.
He needed air.
XXXIV
YESTERDAY
DOWNTOWN MERIT
SYDNEY followed him into the street.
Victor hadn’t heard her, not for a block, but when he finally glanced back and saw her there, her expression turned cautious, almost scared, as if she’d been caught breaking a rule. She shivered and he gestured to a nearby coffee shop. “Care for a drink?”
“Do you really think we’ll find Eli?” she asked several minutes later as they made their way down the sidewalk, gripping coffee and cocoa respectively.
“Yes,” said Victor.
But he did not elaborate. After several long moments of Sydney’s fidgeting beside him, it was clear that she wanted to keep talking.
“What about your parents?” he asked. “Won’t they notice you missing?”
“I was supposed to stay with Serena all week,” she said, blowing on her drink. “And besides, they travel.” She glanced over at him, then trained her gaze on the to-go cup. “When I was in the hospital last year, they just left me there. They had work. They always have work. They travel forty weeks a year. I had a watcher, but they let her go because she broke a vase. They made time to replace the vase, because apparently it was a focal piece in the house, but they were too busy to find a new watcher, so they said I didn’t need one. Staying alone would be good practice for life.” The words spilled out, and she sounded breathless by the end. Victor said nothing, only let her settle, and a few moments later, she added, calmer, “I don’t think my parents are an issue right now.”
Victor knew far too well about those kinds of parents, so he let the matter fall. Or at least, he tried to. But as they rounded the corner, a bookstore came into view, and there in the front window, a massive poster announced the newest Vale book, on sale this summer.