Indelible by Kristen Heitzmann Page B

opinions.”
    “I hope she wasn’t too bored.”
    “No, she was.”
    Refreshing honesty.
    “Kirstin likes to be seen. She got bored because it wasn’t the sort of crowd to be distracted by her.” He dug in a drawer and produced a corkscrew. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”
    Natalie moved to a photograph on a shelf that broke up his open space. A woman and five boys. He’d said four. “Your family?”
    “Yeah.”
    “The oldest looks like you.”
    “Yep.”
    She leaned in. “Which one is the cop?”
    “Second tallest, to my left. White or red?”
    “White.” If he was determined to pursue it, why not? But it might be these mixed signals that frustrated the reporter. “What’s the story with Jazmyn Dufoe?”
    “I’d rather not go into that.”
    “Okay.”
    “No prying or wheedling?” He poured the wine and brought her a goblet. “With Jaz, even the hint of something unsaid brought an assault.”
    “She’s a reporter. You ought to expect that.”
    “I guess there’s an element of buyer beware.” He clinked her glass with his.
    “Unless she failed to inform you, I have to say there is.”
    “Oh, I knew. Our first conversation was an interview.”
    “Forewarned is forearmed.” She took a sip, perfectly chilled and smooth with just enough bite to keep it interesting.
    “You’d think.” He smiled. “So tell me about this eidetic memory.”
    “I wish I hadn’t brought it up.”
    “Are you saying don’t ask?”
    “I’m just the weird one who remembers what I see. Especially faces.”
    “Why faces?”
    “In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘A man finds room in the few square inches of the face for the traits of all his ancestors; for the expression of all his history, and his wants.’ ”
    “A heavy thought.” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “It isn’t really remembering with you, though. Don’t eidetics continue to see the image as though it’s visible?”
    She looked at him, surprised.
    “I Googled it.”
    “I … Yes, that’s right.”
    He sat against the back of his sofa. “I’m not sensing a deficit IQ.”
    “No.” She stared at the floor.
    “You think I prefer airheads.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Kirstin’s not actually stupid. Just her own universe. Which works well for me.”
    “I see.” Though she didn’t see how that element could attract an altruistic man like Trevor. She took another sip of wine. “I like it.”
    “2008 Wind Gap Pinot Gris.”
    “I’ll have to remember that.”
    “You can take the bottle. That’s the first glass I’ve poured.”
    If she wasn’t careful, she’d start crushing on him again.
    “Have you heard from your brother?”
    She sighed. “A text this morning that said, ‘Sorry.’ ”
    “Sorry?”
    “Maybe that he missed the opening, or that he hasn’t called. I think it’s because of Paige. He’s right to focus on her and Cody.”
    “And you’re cut out?”
    “I’ve been calling the hospital. The nurses know I’m family.”
    “And Cody?”
    “They induced a coma to keep him still and to fight a systemic infection. They won’t say it, but I know they’re worried. I mean, two weeks is long, right?” Her voice caught.
    “His injuries were severe, and carnivore attacks are rife with infection.”
    She fought back tears. “They’re hitting it with the big guns—whatever that means.”
    Trevor nodded, sipped, then said, “How did they discover your ability?”
    Grateful for the change in subject, she said, “Something in my development was different enough from Aaron’s to make them wonder. Eidetic memory is very rare, even controversial, and never the same from one person to the next. The autistic painter Stephen Wiltshire can draw an entire city skyline after a single helicopter ride over it. That broad a vista leaves no residual image for me.”
    “Only people?”
    “Mostly. Now.”
    “One article said many small children have it to some degree.”
    “That’s true. Mine was extreme and