Page 145 of Power of the Mind

Diem, painting a cracker with peanut butter, redirected his attention when I turned the bottle to show him.

“Look at this.”

He set the snack aside, licking his fingers clean, and took the bottle. Studying it, he instantly noted its faults. At the seam, he peeled back a cheaply made sticker, revealing a generic white bottle underneath.

“These are homemade,” he said, taking it off completely and turning it around. “Printed on a high-quality printer and using glossy paper.”

“And Photoshop, only someone wasn’t interested in the details.”

“They’re a front. If the cops catch you with a bottle of echinacea, they aren’t exactly going to give a shit or question its contents. In fact, they’ll assume you’re sick and back the fuck off. The Covid scare.”

“So what’s in the capsules?”

“We need to find someone who can figure that out.”

“Do you know anyone at the lab?”

Diem shook his head. “I can make some phone calls. Leave it with me.”

It was long past midnight, and technically, I worked in the morning. We reluctantly called it a night, agreeing Diem would see what he could do the following day. We refilled the garbage bags and stashed them in a closet. Diem retained one bottle to hopefully have it tested.

I saw him to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” I asked when he lingered in the hallway.

“No… I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

I smiled sadly. “I figured. Call me?”

He nodded but still didn’t go. The brooding man shuffled his feet and glanced along the vacant corridor to the distantelevator. “Look… I’m sorry… I… I want to be able to do this, but…”

“But you can’t. I get it.”

He looked like he had more to say, but after a long minute of uncomfortable silence, he nodded, ducked his chin, and left.

I watched him lumber down the hall to the end, defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders. At the elevator, he pushed the button and glanced back. “Don’t let anyone up unless you’re sure who it is. Hilty’s a loose cannon. He’s dangerous, and I don’t trust him.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“Tallus.”

“I won’t let anyone up. Goodnight, Guns.”

The elevator doors slid open, but Diem didn’t move. He held eye contact for longer than was typical. When the doors tried to close, he caught the edge to stop them.

“The invitation stands,” I said.

“Goodnight, Tallus.” He got in the elevator and left.

34

Diem

Ididn’t sleep. After leaving Tallus’s, my inner demons took over, and I didn’t have the strength to fight. I regretfully ended up at a twenty-four-hour convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes. At home, sitting on a concrete barrier outside the building, I smoked through far too many as my mind spun over details of the evening, none of it case-related.

In one week, I’d crossed a handful of bridges I’d convinced myself I would never be able to cross. I’d kissed a man, brought him to my bed, and we’d shared a shower. Okay, Tallus had been the initiator of all three, but I’d willingly participated. I hadn’t told him no. I hadn’t walked away. However clumsy and inadequate, I was part of it.

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