Page 71 of Power of the Mind

I sat upright and rattled my head to help me wake up as I glanced at the quiet street ahead. “No. My car’s at your house.”

“Your car’s at headquarters. I picked you up after work, remember?”

“Oh, right. You can drop me there, I guess. I can’t afford an Uber in the morning.” I lay my head against the headrest, but despite my efforts to stay awake, I was out cold again in ten seconds.

The next time I opened my eyes, Diem was calling my name. A dimly lit parking garage surrounded me, the faint glowof sodium lights illuminating Diem’s face. His anxiety wasn’t hidden.

Something was wrong.

I tried to clear my head, but the sleep fog persisted. We weren’t at headquarters. “I thought you were taking me to my car.”

Diem chewed on words for a long moment before mumbling, “We need to talk.”

I blinked several times at the scowling, tense man across from me as his words penetrated my groggy mind. Talk? Had Diem Krause suggested a conversation? I must have been dreaming.

“Talk?” I asked.

He gave a clipped nod, his warm skin tone unusually pale. He looked like he was going to vomit.

“About the case? Can’t it wait?”

“No.” A long pause. “Not the case.”

“Not the case?”

He shook his head.

Had it been anyone else in the world, I’d have argued that it was nearing one in the morning, my body battery was depleted, and I had to work the following day, but this was Diem. The man whose vocabulary consisted of more grunts and growls than words with syllables. The man who struggled with feelings and emotions and expressing himself on a good day. I’d spent half the night yapping his ear off, and he’d contributed a grand total of about six words.

Now he wanted to talk?

To me?

I didn’t know what it was about, but how could I refuse?

Groggily nodding, I exited the Jeep and headed up to his office in silence. Diem’s body language conveyed discomfort. He looked like a man being marched to the gallows, and again, a sense of unease worried my belly.

Of all the things I knew about Diem, there were a thousand more I didn’t.

In his private living space, I took a minute to say hello to Baby while Diem sorted himself out. As was typical, the poor guy didn’t know where to put himself. He spent a long time staring into the bowels of the fridge. If I had to guess, he was wishing a beer or a bottle of hard liquor would miraculously appear.

Baby was hidden inside her log, her thick muscular body coiled around itself. I didn’t love his pet snake. In fact, she gave me the heebie-jeebies and made my heart pound, but I understood her better. Or rather, I understood Diem’s connection to her. I understood why he related to a snake over a kitten or puppy.

“He’s a mess,” I whispered to the reptile. “Something’s been bugging him all night.”

Baby didn’t respond or give any hint she was listening.

“I think it’s because I kissed him yesterday. Did he tell you about that? Maybe he’s finally ready to talk about it.”

“I can fucking hear you,” Diem snapped. “The apartment isn’t that big.”

I chuckled and glanced from Baby to Diem. The brooding man paced, squeezing the life out of the rubber ball I’d given him months ago. “I wasn’t talking to you, Guns. Baby and I were chatting.”

No response.

Pacing.

Pacing.

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