False Hearts (False Hearts #1)(4)

How could you incriminate her? I ask myself. She couldn’t have done anything. Right?

“And where do you work?”

I swallow. This is all in my file from when he scanned the VeriChip in my wrist. “Silvercloud Solutions.”

Officer Oloyu makes a show of perusing my file on his blank, white tablet. “That’s a subset of Sudice, right?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why he’s pretending he doesn’t know. Sudice is the biggest company in Pacifica, with offices in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Portland and Honolulu. They supply the drug Zeal to all Pacifica states, and have most tech in the city patented.

“It says here you helped design the VivaFog.” Those machines have been my life’s work for the past five years: the machines that take energy from the ever-present fog around the bay and relay it to the coastal apartments. We’re going to try and expand to the maritime district this year.

“I was one of the team that did, yes,” I respond. Why isn’t he asking the questions he really wants the answer to? Beneath the table, I press my knees hard to stop them knocking together.

Officer Oloyu isn’t saying anything out of order, but everything in his body language screams: I suspect you, either of murder or accessory to it. I wish I still had that microexpression overlay downloaded to my ocular implants, but I deleted it months ago. I didn’t like what it told me about people.

“That’s impressive,” Officer Oloyu says. I’m not sure whether or not I sense the underlying subtext I often do from people who know my past: for someone who grew up in the cult of Mana’s Hearth.

“Thank you,” I tell him, meeting his eyes.

“We contacted your employer, but it seems you quit your job today and have plans to leave the country.”

“Yes, that’s correct. That’s been in the works for months. It’s not a sudden decision.” I feel a flutter of nerves, deep in my stomach. It’s a coincidence, but it doesn’t look good.

“We’re unclear if this is premeditated or a crime of passion.”

“I had nothing to do with this. Whatever this is. And I’m sure my sister didn’t, either.”

He pauses, considering me. The overhead lighting leaves half his face in shadow. I look down at my stone-cold coffee. I want water, but I don’t ask him for it.

“Did your sister seem different at all, the last time you saw her? Distressed in any way?”

“No. She seemed the same as usual. Laughing, joking. We went to an Ethiopian restaurant in the Mission.”

His gaze goes distant as he makes a mental note with his implants.

This is my first lie to the police. She seemed thinner, she didn’t laugh. She picked at her food, when usually Tila has a voracious appetite. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she said she’d just been working too many late nights at the club. The lie fell from my mouth before I thought about it, and I can’t take it back.

They’ve mapped my brain to see if I’m lying. A model floats above our heads, delicate and transparent, dotted with neuron clusters like stars. Oloyu glances up to check. Between my mechanical heart not growing as excited as a flesh one and my Hearth training, nothing happens. I could lie with impunity. If they map Tila, she can too.

“So nothing unusual over the last few weeks? No signs she was keeping anything from you? You two must be close.” Again, I can hear from his tone what he really means: close enough that if one of you did it, the other would know about it.

“Closer than you can ever imagine,” I say, my voice sharpening with fear. I don’t want him to see he’s struck a nerve, but by the flint of his eyes, he knows he has. I decide I’m not going to let him scare me, even if terror still rolls in my stomach. Even though I hate the Hearth and all it stands for, another one of Mana-ma’s sayings comes to me: They only have power over you if you let them.

“Does your sister have any enemies?” Oloyu leans forward. I can’t stand anyone that close to me unless it’s Tila or someone I know extremely well. But I lean forward on my elbows, right in his face, ignoring the mirrored window behind him and whoever watches me through it. I’m still scared, but I haven’t let it paralyze me.

“Everyone loves Tila. She can go buy food and make a new friend.” That’s true. If we take a shuttle somewhere for a holiday, I read, ignoring those around me. Tila will become fast friends with whoever is sitting next to her: an old man with a white beard, a new mother and her squalling baby, and once a Buddhist monk in his saffron robes.

She can make enemies as well: people who don’t like her because of her blithe way of speaking, her easy enthusiasm. I’m sure there are probably a few other hostesses at the club who are jealous of her. She can charm clients with a half-lidded glance and she often crows to me about how she receives the lion’s share of the tips. Tila seems to know what it is each person wants and reflects that back to them, flirting by acting like one of the ribald men as easily as playing the coquettish minx. Heaven knows where she’s learned all that. I sure haven’t.

“Nobody at all?” Officer Oloyu presses.

I shake my head. “None that come to mind, no. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.” I’m not sorry I haven’t given them anything to incriminate my sister. Or at least I hope I haven’t.

He presses his lips together. “Now then. The question you must be expecting: where were you at 1700 hours this evening?”