The cop studies her—clearly he knows exactly who she is and exactly what her offer means.
“From my understanding, you’re seventeen, Miss Ward, and seeing that you’re in a wheelchair, we couldn’t unwind you anyway. So what possible value do you have?”
She smiles, finally having the upper hand. “Are you kidding me? A notorious member of the Anti-Divisional Resistance who knows exactly what happened at Happy Jack that day?”
He takes a moment to consider her point. “I’m not an idiot,” he says. “You’ll never cooperate. You’d rather die than cooperate.”
“Perhaps,” admits Risa, “but why should that matter to you? No matter how uncooperative I am, you’ll still get credit for bringing me in, won’t you?”
She can practically hear his mind clicking and whirring. “What’s going to stop me from capturing both you and the kid in the bed?”
“If you try,” Risa says calmly, “then you lose the prize. I have a subcutaneous cyanide pill in my palm.” She holds out her hand for him to see. “It’s right under the skin. All I have to do is bring my hands together to crack it open.” Then she mimes a wide clap, stopping just short of her palms touching. “You see,” she says with a grin, “there’s more than one type of clapper.”
There is, of course, no such pill under her skin, but he doesn’t have to know that. Even if he suspects she’s bluffing, he’s not sure enough to risk it.
“If I die right here, right now,” Risa says, “you won’t be known as the cop who brought me in, but the cop who let me die while in your custody.” Then she smiles again. “That’s almost as bad as getting shot in the leg with one’s own tranq pistol, isn’t it?”
The man frowns at the thought of being associated in any way with that other unfortunate Juvey-cop.
The nurse is not happy with any of this. She crosses her arms. “What about my reward money?” she asks.
Then her brother turns to her like an older brother should and says, “Shut it, Eva, all right? Just shut it.”
And with that, the deal is done.
Dylan’s chart will remain marked with his bogus records, and when he’s fit to travel, he’ll be released to Kiana, no questions asked.
But as for Risa, her life now lies on a different path.
19 - Cam
A suitable partner for Camus Comprix—one with all the right qualities—is not easy to find. More than two hundred girls go through the interview process. All of them have strong credentials. There are actresses and models, scholars, and high-society debutantes. Roberta has left no stone unturned in drumming up the perfect planet for her star.
The final twenty are brought to Cam for his assessment in a cushy fireside interview in the grand living room. They are all well-dressed, pretty, and smart. Most of them talk about their résumés as if applying for an office job. Some look at him with no qualms, while others can’t look him in the eye at all. There’s one girl who fawns all over him, putting off more heat than the fireplace.
“I would love to be your first,” she says. “You can do that, can’t you? I mean you’re . . . complete, right?”
“More than complete,” he tells her. “In fact, I have three.”
She just stares at him dumbfounded, and he decides not to tell her he’s joking.
He finds himself attracted to some, left cold by others—but in none of them does he find the spark of connection he has hoped for. By the time he gets to the last girl, a Boston scholar with New York fashion sense, he just wants to get this day over with. The girl is one of those who is intrigued by his face. She doesn’t just look at him, though, she studies him like a specimen under a microscope.
“So what do you see when you look at me?” he asks.
“It’s not what’s on the outside—it’s the inside that matters,” she responds.
“And what do you think is inside?”
She hesitates, then asks, “Is this a trick question?”
Roberta is exasperated when he refuses to accept a single one of them. Dinner between the two of them that night is all clattering silverware and intense cutting of meat. They barely look at each other across the table. Finally Roberta says, “We’re not looking for your soul mate, Cam, just someone to fill a role. A consort to help ease you into public life.”
“Maybe I’m not willing to settle for that.”
“Being practical is not the same as settling.”
Cam slams his fist down. “My decision! You will not force me.”