there were still plenty of accidents.
Roberta took a deep breath, trying to quiet an ache that had nothing to do with the tabs. She'd loved Preston when she was a child. Preston had been the only sentient creature who took any continuing interest in her; he'd been her hope, however foolish, for family. She'd put that fantasy aside in college, when she fell in love with Doe. Doe was a real person, flesh and blood; Doe had given her a real family. Doe thought talking to Preston was stupid, so Roberta stopped doing it.
Doe was gone now. Doe had never really loved Roberta at all, or had loved her for the wrong reasons. The relationship had been a lie. And Preston was no better. Roberta had thought he valued the connection as much as she did, that he loved her because she'd been willing to talk to him when his own daughter shut him out. That had been a lie too. Meredith had always been more important to Preston than Roberta was, and both of them had betrayed her.
And if she wasn't very careful now, they'd get her in still more trouble. Think, she told herself, trying to keep her mind from racing. The probation people had her apartment wired six ways from Sunday: nothing she did here was fully private. Sergei had assured her the devices were aural only, not visual, but she wasn't sure she believed him, or believed that his own bosses told him the entire truth. She didn't know what would happen if the authorities found out that Meredith was in her apartment, and in this condition. She couldn't think clearly enough to map out the possibilities. She did know that she didn't want to give anything away any sooner than she had to, which meant she wasn't about to say Meredith's name out loud.
But she'd just asked Meredith what her name was. Shit. If Meredith were still in hiding, she probably wouldn't give the right name, but Sergei's people might voiceprint anyone they heard in Roberta's apartment, just on general principles. Roberta had no idea how much of the surveillance was proforma.
Her head had begun to pound. She weighed options and finally decided to speak before her guest did. "If you don't want to tell me your name," she said, "it's all right."
Meredith, if that was indeed who it was, shook her head no and traced an X across her lips with one finger. My lips are sealed, that meant, but of course they weren't, she'd been screaming bloody murder just a few minutes ago, which meant that if anyone really was listening and inclined to run a print, the gig was up anyway. Suddenly Meredith was all twitchy motion, craning her head to scan the ceiling, rummaging under the pillows on the couch, running her hands along the blanket seams. When her frantic gaze swept across the phone it stopped, and she began to shake.
You called Kevin, Roberta thought. So why are you afraid of phones? Because his line's secure, and you know mine's not?
As if on cue, her phone beeped, and the stranger's hands clenched. "Relax," Roberta said. "It's for me." Two long beeps, one short: Sergei.
"Roberta! Thank Gaia I got you. Phones are out a lot of places. Where have you been? Are you all right? The GPS said you were out in the storm—"
"I'm fine," Roberta said. "I tried to walk to the soup kitchen, but then I turned back. I'm here now. I'm fine." Please, she thought, please pay more attention to the second part of all that than the first. Had she been religious, it would have been a prayer.
"No one would have made you go to work today! This isn't good, Roberta."
Her hands were sweating, the plastic of the handset clammy against them. "Don't worry, Sergei. I'm all right."
"Roberta—"
"I turned around," she said, trying to sound calm, trying not to sound defensive. Her earlier defiance had evaporated, replaced by abject fear. Please, not the gene therapy. Please. You've taken five years of my life. You can't have my brain too. "I turned
Roberta took a deep breath, trying to quiet an ache that had nothing to do with the tabs. She'd loved Preston when she was a child. Preston had been the only sentient creature who took any continuing interest in her; he'd been her hope, however foolish, for family. She'd put that fantasy aside in college, when she fell in love with Doe. Doe was a real person, flesh and blood; Doe had given her a real family. Doe thought talking to Preston was stupid, so Roberta stopped doing it.
Doe was gone now. Doe had never really loved Roberta at all, or had loved her for the wrong reasons. The relationship had been a lie. And Preston was no better. Roberta had thought he valued the connection as much as she did, that he loved her because she'd been willing to talk to him when his own daughter shut him out. That had been a lie too. Meredith had always been more important to Preston than Roberta was, and both of them had betrayed her.
And if she wasn't very careful now, they'd get her in still more trouble. Think, she told herself, trying to keep her mind from racing. The probation people had her apartment wired six ways from Sunday: nothing she did here was fully private. Sergei had assured her the devices were aural only, not visual, but she wasn't sure she believed him, or believed that his own bosses told him the entire truth. She didn't know what would happen if the authorities found out that Meredith was in her apartment, and in this condition. She couldn't think clearly enough to map out the possibilities. She did know that she didn't want to give anything away any sooner than she had to, which meant she wasn't about to say Meredith's name out loud.
But she'd just asked Meredith what her name was. Shit. If Meredith were still in hiding, she probably wouldn't give the right name, but Sergei's people might voiceprint anyone they heard in Roberta's apartment, just on general principles. Roberta had no idea how much of the surveillance was proforma.
Her head had begun to pound. She weighed options and finally decided to speak before her guest did. "If you don't want to tell me your name," she said, "it's all right."
Meredith, if that was indeed who it was, shook her head no and traced an X across her lips with one finger. My lips are sealed, that meant, but of course they weren't, she'd been screaming bloody murder just a few minutes ago, which meant that if anyone really was listening and inclined to run a print, the gig was up anyway. Suddenly Meredith was all twitchy motion, craning her head to scan the ceiling, rummaging under the pillows on the couch, running her hands along the blanket seams. When her frantic gaze swept across the phone it stopped, and she began to shake.
You called Kevin, Roberta thought. So why are you afraid of phones? Because his line's secure, and you know mine's not?
As if on cue, her phone beeped, and the stranger's hands clenched. "Relax," Roberta said. "It's for me." Two long beeps, one short: Sergei.
"Roberta! Thank Gaia I got you. Phones are out a lot of places. Where have you been? Are you all right? The GPS said you were out in the storm—"
"I'm fine," Roberta said. "I tried to walk to the soup kitchen, but then I turned back. I'm here now. I'm fine." Please, she thought, please pay more attention to the second part of all that than the first. Had she been religious, it would have been a prayer.
"No one would have made you go to work today! This isn't good, Roberta."
Her hands were sweating, the plastic of the handset clammy against them. "Don't worry, Sergei. I'm all right."
"Roberta—"
"I turned around," she said, trying to sound calm, trying not to sound defensive. Her earlier defiance had evaporated, replaced by abject fear. Please, not the gene therapy. Please. You've taken five years of my life. You can't have my brain too. "I turned
Similar Books
