Читать книгу Untouched - Samantha Hunter - Страница 6

“HALLOOO? Risa? I have your groceries…halloooo?”

Risa Remington glared at the wide-screen monitor that covered the surface of her small desk. She’d taped a check onto the door as a not-so-subtle hint for her neighbor just to leave the groceries there, but Kristy was getting more insistent about seeing Risa face-to-face.

Risa watched Kristy, who stood clearly in the path of the hallway video feed. If she didn’t open the door, Kristy would probably think something was wrong and get help. That was a hassle Risa just didn’t need. She was trying to keep a low profile, intent on drawing as little attention as possible to herself until she could form some plan for her life.

Plan. Right.

She’d been stuck in this hole of an apartment in this hole of a town for six months. She had no plan but surviving day-to-day.

She looked at the perky young woman on the monitor, her streaked blond hair twisted up into a fun ponytail bound by something pink and fuzzy, her clothes sporty and equally colorful. Risa ignored the twinge of envy that settled in her gut. She didn’t know how to be that kind of girl—pretty, lighthearted, carefree. She didn’t know how to be a girl, period. Her life had been about much more important things than pink sweaters and kicky highlights. Risa didn’t belong to that world—she had no idea what world she belonged in.

Maybe none.

Until she figured it out, she was staying put and depending on her neighbors’ willingness to help out their new “agoraphobic” tenant. Thank goodness for popular TV series like Monk that made it commonplace to be a phobic personality. It worked like a charm. She didn’t have to leave her apartment for anything; she didn’t have to talk to anyone. Until now.

It was obvious that Kristy wasn’t leaving until Risa opened the door. She had to be at least marginally friendly to the woman who’d brought her groceries. There was chocolate pudding in that bag. The only thing that was great about being off the government payroll was that now Risa could eat whatever she wanted. Her favorite thing was chocolate pudding. She could live on the stuff.

She opened the door as Kristy’s hand was poised midair to knock yet again. Risa forced a smile and a hurried excuse that were both lies.

“I’m so sorry, Kristy—I was in the bathroom and didn’t hear you. Are those mine? Thanks. I appreciate you doing this.”

Reaching for the very full grocery bag, she hoped to duck back in, but Kristy wasn’t so easily thwarted.

“I thought maybe you’d like some company. Today’s my day off, and I picked up some warm bagels at the bakery—do you have coffee?”

Kristy moved forward, comfortable with inviting herself in, apparently. More from reflex than anything, Risa’s arm shot across the doorway, blocking Kristy’s progress in a clear warning not to continue. When Kristy frowned, catching her eye, Risa forged another smile, and another lie.

“I’m sorry. Again. I just really have a lot of work to do today.”

“You said you’re a writer?”

“Yes. Technical. Freelance manuals for televisions, stoves, you know, that kind of thing. Nothing interesting. Nothing they put my name on.”

Kristy looked nonplussed. “Oh. Well. I just thought, you know, since you never get out that you might like someone to come in and chat for a while. I read on the net that agoraphobics like company, they just don’t like public places.”

Risa clamped her teeth together, pushing down her irritation at Kristy’s insistence. Her head was starting to hurt—the horrible headaches she’d had since the accident were fewer, but still intense—and her patience was wearing thin.

“Really, I just have so much work, but thanks….”

Tugging the heavy bag from Kristy’s arms and nodding toward the check still taped to the door, Risa started to turn away, annoyed that she’d have to find another way to get her groceries. Kristy was getting far too nosy.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kristy’s voice seemed far away as Risa leaned against the door, the heavy bag disappearing from her arms as her knees turned to water. She heard a moan, probably her own, but as usual, when the headaches hit, she lost control completely. She didn’t even feel the floor as she slumped, her body numb, her mind vaulting into another place, and she was powerless to stop it….

“A PUPPY!” Risa cried out joyfully as the tiny chocolate Lab ran in a crooked line, its oversized paws sliding on the slippery floor as it made its way to her. She picked up the soft, brown bundle and nestled it close, looking up at her mom with great hopes that the puppy was not just a temporary visitor.

“Is he mine? Can I name him?”

“Absolutely, honey. He’s yours to keep. But you have to be very careful with him. He’s just a baby and will need a lot of love and training.”

“I promise. His name is Buddy.”

Her mother stepped back, looking at Dr. Laslow, who stood to the side, smiling, too.

“Dr. Laslow! I have a puppy!”

“I see that, Risa. Good for you. Now, can you tell me what his stats are?”

Her mother’s smile turned into a frown; Risa knew her mom didn’t like it when Dr. Laslow asked her to tell him things, but Risa didn’t mind. It was even kind of fun showing off her special powers.

Risa ran her small hands over the puppy’s silky coat, warm, happy feelings cascading through her. She answered the doctor’s question very clearly. “His heartbeat is one hundred seventy-five beats each minute, and his temperature is one hundred and one. He’s healthy.” She smiled, looking up for the doctor’s approval.

“That’s great, Risa. Can you tell me anything else about Buddy?”

“He’s happy. He likes me,” she announced with utter certainty and no small amount of pride. She couldn’t read the animal’s thoughts in the way she could a person’s, but she could pick up on its physical and emotional state.

“Uh-oh.”

“What, honey?” Her mother stepped forward, concerned.

“Buddy feels funny…he’s very excited. I think he has to go.”

She put the puppy down and sure enough, Buddy piddled immediately. Risa looked up, worried that the adults would be angry and take Buddy away. But her mom just smiled, reassuring her everything was fine. Dr. Laslow was too busy writing something in his notebook to notice. Her mom was saying something to her, and she listened closely, but she couldn’t quite hear…it wasn’t making sense….

“Risa. You’re okay. Just rest a minute.”

Opening her eyes, Risa stared at the blank, off-white stucco of her apartment ceiling, interrupted by Kristy’s very concerned expression as she leaned over and looked down into Risa’s face.

“What did you say?”

“You passed out. You must not have eaten enough this morning, had a blood sugar dip. Are you hypoglycemic by any chance?”

“No. You can go. I’m fine.”

Kristy knelt by where Risa lay on the floor, putting a hand to Risa’s forehead, much in the way Risa’s mother used to do, and pushed her hair back.

“I’ll just stay with you for a while. Make sure you’re okay.”

Risa pulled back—she didn’t like being touched. The dream was still too fresh, the reality too sharp. When Kristy touched her she felt…nothing. Touching just reminded her of how cut off she was, how much she’d lost. It had taken her months to get used to using her computer manually; she felt cut off there, too, but had managed it. People were a different story.

A mere touch once told her everything she had needed to about the world and the people around her. Now she could see nothing. The constant blankness induced a sharp anxiety she couldn’t bear. It reminded her of when she had touched her parents after their deaths, frantically running her hands over their faces searching for some connection, seeking some thought or memory, but there’d been nothing. They were blank, cold—gone from her.

The flashback played before her eyes again. Buddy had been with her for years, her best friend. Her only friend. She hadn’t had another pet since he died when she was fourteen, ten years after he’d skidded across the floor into her arms. She still felt the pinch of losing him around her heart.

“I said I’m fine.”

She stood up, putting distance between herself and Kristy, heading for the door to make it clear she wanted Kristy to leave.

“Fine, I’ll go, but I’d like to know something first.”

“What’s that?” Risa shoved her fingers through her hair, impatient and anxious. Something had changed in the room, something was different about Kristy, her posture, her expression, but Risa couldn’t tell exactly what it was. She didn’t like being at such a disadvantage. She could sense something about Kristy’s mental state, but it wasn’t solid—like when a word you needed was just beyond your reach.

Kristy crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d like to know why you have a folder here with my name on it that tells you everything from what schools I attended to what men I date and what medicines are in my bathroom cabinet.”

Risa froze. Kristy must have snooped while she was unconscious. Her mind raced for what to say, how to cover the truth, but Kristy filled in the silence between them.

“I was looking for a doctor’s number when you passed out, a phone book or something with some information, and I found your files. I saw the hallway on your computer screen—you’re monitoring everyone in the building, aren’t you?”

Kristy pinned Risa with a shrewd gaze. “I’m guessing you’re not agoraphobic, either. Are you law enforcement? Is there something dangerous going on here? I want to know. Do you want to tell me exactly why you’re doing all of this, and how, or do I call the police and have them ask you?”

What the hell could she say? Kristy wouldn’t believe the truth—would she?

Risa’s urge to connect with someone, anyone, warred with her instinct to protect herself. She also hadn’t forgotten her duty to keep top secret information secret. Her former life was as top secret as it got.

As Kristy stood staring at her, Risa thought maybe she could tell her something—a version of the truth, if not the truth itself. She’d been watching Kristy for months—there was nothing to suggest she was untrustworthy, and Risa didn’t want the police digging around. Dr. Laslow had warned her about keeping a low profile. She had a normal life now, whatever that meant, but she still had to protect her past. Her powers might have disappeared, but all of the things she knew and witnessed hadn’t. As Kristy reached for the phone again—to dial 911, no doubt—Risa stepped forward, putting up a hand in a halting motion.

“Please, don’t call the police. I’ll tell you what’s going on.” She tried a smile, knowing her attempt was lame. “Did you say you brought bagels?”

AN HOUR LATER, the bagels sat cold in the center of the kitchen counter, uneaten. Risa’s appetite had faded and Kristy was listening with such rapt attention she’d forgotten to eat.

“I can’t believe this—are you serious? You worked for the government as a psychic? You could read people’s minds?”

“Yes, most of my life. My parents, too. And my grandfather. He approached the government in 1941, to help with the war effort. He felt it was his duty. He was already married and had my mother, who inherited the same ability, and then that was passed on to me. My father was a CIA agent, a regular guy. He met my mother back before…”

Risa drifted off. She couldn’t tell Kristy that, after her mother and father’s romance Dr. Laslow had made sure no such contact would be made with Risa. He’d said there was too much risk involved, too much access to secrets concerning Risa’s powers. She cleared her throat and just skipped the subject altogether.

“Since then, our family has worked for the government, secretly, of course.”

“Well, Reagan used to consult astrologers, I heard, and he took a lot of flack for that. So I can understand why they wouldn’t want to let the media know they used professional psychics—and back to World War II even! But you don’t have any powers now?”

Risa shook her head, relieved to be able to tell the truth on that, at least. She’d figured explaining her former abilities as psychic ones would be easier for Kristy to understand, without giving away too much. In reality, Risa wasn’t a psychic, though her abilities had paralleled what some psychics claimed to be able to do. People talked about psychics all the time; it was a useful, harmless comparison that would serve its purpose.

Unlike psychics, who were a more paranormal phemonemon, Risa had inherited a supercharged nervous system that was physically differently than any normal human’s. She could link with anything that held an electrical charge—man, animal or machine. She didn’t operate on what she “felt” or on vague images, as psychics did.

She couldn’t find dead bodies through dreams or pieces of clothing, though she could tell you exactly where a killer buried his victims just with a touch. Risa was hardwired to become part of what she touched. But it was best to keep her secrets, for Kristy’s own protection, as well as anything else. In spite of her lack of abilities, there were still nefarious people who might be interested in “studying” her.

“Yes, they’re all gone, so now I’m trying to lead a normal life. But I lived on government compounds since I was born—”

“Like an army brat?”

“Yeah. Like that. My parents died on a mission when I was five, and I was raised by the staff we worked with. I haven’t known anything else. Ever.”

Kristy’s eyes welled up, and she reached across the table just as Risa drew her arm out of reach of the comforting touch. “That’s just awful. You poor thing.”

“I liked it, mostly. I helped people. What I did was important.”

“And you’ve had these blackouts since your accident?”

Risa nodded. “They’re supposed to go away in time. That’s what Dr. Laslow said.”

“He’s your physician?”

“He was the doctor who took care of me since I was born. My mother, too.”

Kristy sat back, clearly astounded and processing the information. “I can’t imagine—you went on missions? Like a real spy?”

“Sort of. I was never really trained as a spy. They just needed me to ask people questions, you know, to find out information.”

It had, of course, been much more involved than that, but she’d already said more than she should, and was feeling anxious about her revelations. Risa had been trained to keep secrets, but it seemed the point of “girl talk” was to tell all, something she wasn’t free to do.

“So, you know all kinds of top secret stuff?”

Risa shifted uncomfortably. “Some. But you know the old line. If I told you about it, I’d have to kill you.”

Kristy smiled at the cheesy joke, and shook her head in amazement. “I still don’t understand about the files and the video—why do you monitor everyone who lives here?”

Risa had the grace to blush. “It just seemed like the natural thing to do—strange people, strange environment. I was at a major disadvantage. When I lost my ability to read people, to hear their thoughts, I became isolated, like I was in a vacuum. Knowing what was going on around me made me feel safer. I really didn’t mean to intrude, you know, I never watched anything…private. And I’d spent so much time living on government property, and having most things I needed at hand or taken care of, that it’s been difficult adjusting. And I had some experience with electronics, so…”

“So wiring into all of our apartments allowed you to keep track of us so, for instance, you knew I was heading out to the store when you called me to pick up groceries for you,” Kristy deduced, frowning slightly.

Risa nodded, feeling distinctly ashamed.

“Yes, I’m sorry for that, too. I’m just not equipped for—” she looked around, waving her arms and letting her frustration show “—this. Everything. The world.”

It felt so good to finally talk to someone. Risa had never really had a female friend before. Or a male friend, for that matter. After her parents died, she’d confided her secrets and fears only to Buddy. So far, Kristy was taking what Risa told her in relative stride.

“I could help, you know.”

“You have helped, getting my groceries, listening. But you don’t have to do that anymore. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“What I mean is I can help you get back into normal life. You know, for instance…” Kristy assessed Risa closely, making her feel like squirming in her chair. “Are those black pants and shirts all you have to wear?”

Risa looked down at her clothes, the government-issued casuals she’d always worn.

“Yes. They’re all I need.”

“Oh, honey, with your figure you can carry the cat burglar look off nicely, but with your coloring and that amazing auburn hair and those blue eyes—you should be wearing something much more striking.”

Kristy’s mental makeover was setting Risa’s nerves on edge. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, and Kristy had a definite gleam in her eye. Risa didn’t need her former powers to sense that her new friend was getting very excited about influencing Risa’s life.

“And you have no good furniture, nothing on your walls. The place is stark. No personality. We have to get more of your style in here—what do you like?”

“What do you mean?” Risa could only stare.

“You know, what are your favorite colors, for a start?”

Risa paused for a long moment. She’d never really been asked that before. She thought about Buddy, the rich chocolate-brown of his fur, and remembered the scarlet sweater her mother had been wearing the day she’d brought Buddy home. Her mother had always worn bright colors—why hadn’t Risa remembered that until now?

“I like brown. And red.”

Kristy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve always been more of a pink and yellow girl myself, but we can work with that—earthy tones, I guess. Like clays and fire. Yes, that does seem right for you.” She looked at the clock, “Hey, I’ll tell you what. I have the day off, why don’t we go catch some lunch and hit the stores? It’ll be fun.”

“Hit the stores?” Risa wasn’t quite keeping up, still wondering how all of this had happened.

“Yeppers. C’mon, ex-spy lady. We’re going shopping.”