The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(39)

“They were probably right. Sounds like you spent a month in hell.”

“The attic.”

“What?”

“Not exactly hell.” Slater’s mouth kicked up in a humorless smile. “In my hallucinatory state I imagined that I was locked up in an attic. Isn’t that what they did with crazy relatives in the old days?”

“I’ve heard that.”

Slater studied her for a moment longer. She got the feeling he was making a decision.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a small leather case. He opened the case without a word. She glanced at the medical device inside.

“An auto-injector?” she said. She met his eyes. “Are you allergic to something?”

“Maybe the effects of some unknown radiation.” He closed the case and handed it to her. “Take it. Use it if you think it’s necessary.”

“I assume we’re talking about using it on you?”

“It’s a powerful sedative. It will take me down very fast, at least for a while. With your talent, you’ll probably get some warning if I’m about to turn rogue. If you do decide to use it, do it fast. The needle will go through fabric, so aim for whatever part of me is within reach. After you inject the sedative, call Uncle Victor. He’ll know what to do. You still have his number, right?”

“Yes, I know how to reach him. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

There was no point arguing, she thought. If Slater was uneasy about the stability of his psychic senses, she probably ought to be worried, too.

She took the leather case and slipped it into the pocket of her trench coat. In a crisis she was more likely to be wearing the coat than carrying her handbag.

“All right,” she said. “That’s that. Now can we talk about our real priorities?”

“You don’t appear to be shocked by my big reveal,” Slater said. “Maybe later.” Catalina signaled the waiter. “Right now I’ve got other things at the top of what has become a very full agenda. We need to get to the scene of Royston’s murder.”

The waiter arrived with the bill. Slater took out his wallet.

“Business expense,” he said.

“Definitely,” Catalina said. “As far as I’m concerned, the Foundation can pay for everything involved in this mess.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who will have to justify every single receipt to the accounting department.”

“It’s not my fault your uncles are cheap.”

The waiter returned with the credit card. Slater signed the slips, pocketed a copy for himself and got to his feet.

Catalina slid out of the booth and prepared to walk the gauntlet of booths to the front door. It was the only way out of the restaurant. The route would take them straight past the table where Roger sat with his companion.

She led the way, setting a brisk pace while silently counting off booths.

Four to go.

Three.

Two.

In a few more seconds she would be past Roger’s booth. She would pretend not to see him. She was very sure he would return the favor. At the most they might exchange the barest of small nods. Civilized adults.

“You’re leaving me in the dust back here,” Slater said.

She suppressed a sigh and forced herself to slow down to a normal pace.

He caught up with her.

One booth left.

She kept her gaze fixed on the front door but out of the corner of her eye she saw Roger glance up. For a second he was looking straight at her. There was no way they could ignore each other now.

“Catalina,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

There was no help for it. The civilized, adult response demanded a brief pause.

“Slater and I just finished lunch,” she said. “Got a busy afternoon ahead.”

“This is Alicia,” Roger said. “Alicia, this is Catalina.”

Catalina gave Alicia her new-client smile, polite and professional.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

Alicia blinked, as if she wasn’t sure of what she was supposed to say next.

“Hi,” she said. Then she switched her attention to Slater and immediately found her footing. “Hello. I’m Alicia.”

Slater nodded politely but he did not offer his name.

“Got to run,” Catalina said. “See you later.”

“Right,” Roger said, clearly relieved that she was not going to linger.

The brand thing.

Catalina started toward the door again, Slater beside her.

Without warning there occurred that brief lull in conversation that happens periodically in a crowded space. It was only a small wave of silence destined to disappear in a matter of seconds. But one lone voice continued talking.

“Is that her?” Alicia asked. “The psycho you told me about? The one you said was crazy?”

Catalina froze. Slater halted beside her.

“We’re all civilized adults here,” he said very quietly.

“Maybe not,” Catalina said.

She turned on her heel and walked the three steps back to the booth where Roger and Alicia sat. The restaurant had gone still. Forks paused in midair. The waiters were locked in a time warp. It was as if a spell had been cast across the room.