“It’s not so bad. Deo’s my family. Kelsey, too.”
I do consider Kelsey family, even though I can’t say for certain she feels the same way. She has to maintain a professional distance, and I know she has her own family. Her husband died in a car accident years ago, but she has kids and grandkids nearby, and she used to spend weekends with her older sister on the Chesapeake Bay before the sister passed away last spring. But for me, the test of family is whether someone is really there when you need them. Even if it means going above and beyond, and maybe breaking the rules. Kelsey has come through time and again for both me and Deo. So she’s family to me, regardless of whether the reverse is true.
“Speaking of Kelsey, I need to call her. Except I have no idea what to tell her.”
As I pull out my phone, Aaron walks over to the messenger bag he stashed next to my backpack when we came in from the car. “You could just say you and Deo are in protective custody. Because of what happened to Porter. It’s true. Sort of.”
I don’t respond, but I can’t help thinking this is where I usually end up—hanging out with my old buddy, Selective Truth. “Could work. Better than anything else I can come up with. What are you looking for?”
He types something on his tablet. “Something for you to check out when you’re done talking to Kelsey. Might answer your questions about the Stargate Project. I need to call Sam. See if he has any more news about Porter, and check in on some work-related items. You want more coffee?”
“Sure.”
When I reach Kelsey, she’s not happy that I can’t give her more details. She’s a pretty smart cookie, and she’s spent enough time poking around inside my head to know when I’m hiding something. But near the end of the conversation, she backs off, possibly realizing that it might be better if she knows less, rather than more.
“As long as you’re sure the two of you will be safe. You are someplace safe, aren’t you, Anna?”
I glance over at Aaron, who’s walked back into the kitchen as he talks to Sam. Between Molly’s memories and my own take, I’m able to keep my voice confident. “Yes. We’ll be safe.”
“You’d better be,” she says. “And call me tomorrow to check in, okay? Because I’m going to be worried until I know everything’s back to normal.”
I hang up without even mentioning my concerns that this situation will get us bounced from Bart House. Back when Emily MacAlister was hanging out in my head, anytime I was worried about something, she’d say, Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. That’s apparently Bible speak for don’t go borrowing tomorrow’s troubles when you’ve got enough on your plate as it is, and I think my plate is overflowing already.
Aaron is still in the kitchen. Molly presses forward, straining to hear what they’re saying, but I guess they’ve already discussed Porter and have moved on to other business, so I grab the tablet from the couch next to me. It’s a YouTube video of a Nightline episode from 1995. Ted Koppel’s face is instantly familiar, since Emily watched his show every night while working on her crossword puzzles.
Koppel first talks to a guy who swears his team was instrumental in helping to find a hostage being held in the Middle East through something called remote viewing. A few scientists chat back and forth about whether the program’s successes are simply due to chance, then there’s a panel with three men in suits. One is a former head of the CIA, Robert Gates. The others all claim to have worked in some capacity with the Stargate Project during the previous two decades. They seem to have a fundamental difference of opinion on whether psychics were of any use as spies, but all three concur that any future investigations should be handled outside the government.
Aaron is sitting across from me, reading e-mails or something, when I look up.
“So,” I begin, “if what you think is true, all three guys in that last segment are lying through their teeth.”
He nods. “Covering their tracks.”
Would you ask him about Pa? I heard him talking in the kitchen, but you were on the phone with Kelsey, and—
I feel Aaron watching me, so I push Molly away.
In a minute.
“You were talking to Molly, weren’t you? Your eyes get sort of . . . unfocused.”
“Yeah,” I snap, embarrassed. “I’ve seen myself on video. It makes me look stupid, but there’s not much I can do about it.”
“Hey. I didn’t think you looked stupid. More like you were lost in a daydream. Sorry if I interrupted.”
“No, it’s okay. Molly just wanted me to ask about Porter.”
“He’s fine. He came out of surgery about an hour ago. Sam says he’s stable and alert.”
“That’s good news!”
“I know. Sam was with him until about ten minutes ago, and Ella will stay overnight to help out.”
I wrinkle my nose instinctively when I get Molly’s memory of Aunt Ella.
Help out, my ass. Push Pa around and make everybody miserable is more like it.