Page 131 of Power of the Mind

“I’m not reckless. I’m proactive. I don’t like sitting around. I’m a doer. A go-getter. In fact, we should go see Hilty again. Tell him we know he’s been working covertly with Rowena. We could shake him up. Rattle his cage. Go all Marlon Brando inThe Godfatheron him. You can wear your fedora and trench coat and—”

“No.”

“Ah, come on. Why not? It could be fun. I want to see that old bastard shit his pants.”

“The only proof we have are illegally obtained copies of his files.” I shoved the stack of prints I’d made at Tallus, who sat on the other side of the desk. “We’rethe criminals at this point.”

He picked up the prints and went through them, defeated and sulky.

After a time, as I ate my dinner at a slower rate than he’d hoovered his, the pout vanished and turned questioning, his sculpted brows meeting in the middle.

“What?”

“Why do you think Hilty got angry with Rowena after our visit? I mean, I get that we unsettled him by suggesting we knew he was still associated with his ex-wife, but why storm over to her place and go ballistic? Why take these files back? If they were working together, then why did he seem so distressed? It doesn’t make sense.”

He was right. I set my fork down and watched as Tallus pensively flipped through the copies of the files. He was onto something.

“See? You’re smart when you slow down. You need to learn to use that brain and stop going off half-cocked.”

He peered over the brim of his come-fuck-me glasses, sultry mischief shining from his hazel irises. “Anyone can be ordinary, Guns. I prefer to keep you on your toes. Besides, I think you like me half-cocked.” He winked.

I stuttered and shoved food in my mouth to hide my unsteadiness.

Tallus, seemingly amused I was flustered, refocused on the prints. “Hilty took these files from his ex and went to his office in the middle of the night, where he spenthoursstewing over them. Hours, Guns. He didn’t drop them off. He didn’t take them home. The man was borderline unstable. You said so yourself.”

“Yeah.” I’d spied him through the window that night.

“Either…” Tallus paused as though running a new idea around his brain before speaking it out loud. His eyes went out of focus, flicking side to side behind his glasses as though playing out a scenario. “Either he was terrified we knew some deep dark secret about him—”

“Like murder.”

“Yes, like murder, or…” Tallus fanned through the pages, frowning. “Or… Oh shit.”

“What? Or what?”

Tallus tossed the stack on the desk and shimmied his chair closer. “Or he didn’t know about them at all.”

I glanced from Tallus to the papers he was frantically organizing across the desk.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, setting my plate aside.

“Where’s that card?”

“What card?”

“The appointment card Sally Soape Opera wrote for us when she tried to get rid of us. I took it. I put it in my pocket. Did I put it in my pocket?”

Tallus flew off the chair and spun in a confused circle as though he didn’t know which way to go. “My car. The cup holder. I always throw loose junk in the cup holder. Hang on. I’ll be back.”

“Tallus—”

He was out the door before I could get a word in, slamming it behind him. A crash sounded. Tallus cursed. The door opened, and he poked his head in. “I may have broken your sign even more. I’m sorry.”

Cringing, he kicked the plastic remains inside the door, offered an apologetic grimace, and left.

Stupid fucking piece of junk sign.

I examined the pages Tallus had spread out, not following his train of thought. I circled the desk, studying them from everyangle, stopping on the opposite side where Tallus had stood to get his point of view.

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