“I think he’s innocent,” Miranda said.
“That’s only because you think he’s cute,” her brother teased.
Miranda smacked him, then she said, “His tattoos have skulls and roses but no fire. If he’s a pyro, his body art would have fire in it, don’t you think?”
Allie couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of Miranda; she was absolutely right!
In her book Caution: This Means You!, Mary Hightower says this about the hazards of entering living-world buildings.
“Don’t. Plain and simple. Don’t enter a living-world building unless you have no other choice. Living-world floors are deceptively thin. Stand on a wood floor, and you may just find yourself sinking through to the basement too quickly to escape the relentless pull of gravity. Step into a living-world elevator, and you may just find it rising to higher floors, leaving you behind to plunge down the shaft.
Do not be tempted by curiosity, and do not accept a dare. Limit yourself to buildings that have crossed into Everlost. They are the only buildings worthy of our attention anyway.
CHAPTER 21
The Benson Burner
It was a simple matter for Allie to get into a high security detention center, walking right through every security door as an Afterlight. Unlike most Afterlights, she didn’t have to worry about sinking through living-world floors, because she simply jumped inside of living hosts, piggybacking rides inside of them, hiding behind their consciousnesses, rather than taking them over completely. Such “half-jacking” made it easy for her to get around without being noticed. First she half-jacked a correctional officer on his way to the main cell block, hanging on to the edge of his thoughts as he went about his business. Then she jumped to another, and another and another, until she had a good sense of the detention center’s layout, and had gotten some inside info about the Benson Burner, who was the subject of quite a few conversations.
Apparently the public defender’s office had assigned Seth Fellon a lawyer who came to see him daily, because his family had disowned him.
Allie lingered until the lawyer showed up; a very efficient-looking woman in neutral beige, and wearing an air of confidence. Allie piggybacked inside her mind, studying her. Allie had no intention of probing her thoughts, but being that close to someone’s mind revealed many things. The woman believed the boy was guilty, but she was also dedicated to her profession and would do everything within her power to give him the best possible defense. Well, now that Allie was here, he’d be getting something better than that. He’d be getting exactly what he deserved, one way or another.
Two guards brought Seth Fellon to the room where his lawyer was waiting to see him. The guards sat him down, and then left, closing the door. It was called client-attorney privilege. Although the guards waited outside the door, they couldn’t listen in. In that room Seth and his lawyer had absolute privacy. It was exactly what Allie needed.
Seth Fellon looked the part. He was a punk with scraggly hair, a stony gaze, and an orange prison jumpsuit that seemed like something he was born for. He had no facial rings now; they had been removed when he arrived. His jumpsuit had short sleeves, and Allie could see the tattoos up close. Not a single hint of fire.
Before the lawyer could speak, Allie made her move, pushing her own consciousness forward and tweaking the sleep reflex deep within the woman’s limbic system. The woman instantaneously went to sleep, and Allie took full control of her body, rolling her neck to get a kink out of it.
“Hi, Ms. Gutierrez,” Seth said. “Any luck changing the trial date?”
Allie had no idea. With the woman’s mind asleep, there was no way to look for the information. Seth took her hesitation as a “no.”
“Didn’t think so,” he said. “I don’t suppose you would have a cigarette, would you?”
Although Seth’s eyes were anything but friendly, Allie forced herself to look deeply into them.
“I want you to think about the fire,” Allie said, getting right down to business. “Everything that happened before, during, and right after.”
“What’s the point?”
Then Allie asked the big question. “Are you guilty, Seth?”
He looked away uncomfortably. “You said you wouldn’t ask that.”
“I’m asking.”
Now Seth looked scared. “They found my fingerprints on the gasoline can,” he said. “Why does it matter what I tell you? They’ve all made up their minds anyway.”
“You work in a gas station. That’s why your hands smelled like gasoline, and that’s why your prints were on the gas can—you probably filled it for someone.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But nobody believes that’s true. Not even you.”
“If it’s true,” Allie said, “I’ll believe it. Now close your eyes and think about the fire.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t want to think about it. All I ever do is think about it!”
Allie held eye contact. His gaze was still cold, still mistrustful, and now that she was here with him, she couldn’t tell anymore. What she thought was innocence might have just been shell shock from having been caught.