Page 86 of Sunflower

Erin sighed but didn’t move her hand. “Leland, I’m sure that you’re aware that I’m a low-level telepath. I’m only here to confirm that you’re telling the truth when you speak.”

He nodded once, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Yeah. You’realsoa high-level psychometrist. I don’t want you digging around in my brain while you search for buried treasure.” He sat back in his seat and shoved his hands under his armpits. “You can join up with this fucker—” He indicated to George with his chin. “—and go fuck yourselves. Preferably with monster-sized, spiked dildos.”

Without removing her hand from the table, Erin chuckled and looked towards Bailey. “Oh, how cute. He’s offering me a good time, and he hasn’t even bought me dinner first.”

Bailey strode forward and slammed Leland’s head onto the table. With Leland’s hands buried in his armpits, he had no way to stop his forehead from hitting the firm vinyl. “Be nice to the lady, fuck-knuckle. She only wants to hold your hand.”

With blood trickling from his left nostril, Leland looked dazed as he sat up, a nice egg-shaped lump already forming next to his left eyebrow. “How am I supposed to answer questions if you give me brain damage?” he slurred.

Erin held her hand up and wiggled her fingers at him like she was waving. “Telepath, remember? You just have to think it, and I’ll be able to hear it.”

“Fuck. You.” He raised a hand to feel the lump on his forehead.

Bailey let him for a second before taking hold of his wrist in one hand and Leland’s neck in the other and wrenched them both down to the tabletop so Erin could grab his hand. Leland struggled, but both Bailey and Erin held him firmly in place.

“Thank you, Bailey,” Erin said sweetly. “You’re such a gentleman.”

Dad snorted next to me. “Christ, she’s really enjoying this, isn’t she?”

“There’s a reason why she’s known in our circles,” Marcy agreed quietly, her eyes never leaving the scene in front of us. “It was a tremendous loss when she gave it all up to marry you.”

“Why?” Dad asked, his confusion obvious. “It’s clear how much she loves this.”

Marcy shrugged. “She loved you more.”

I smiled as Dad stilled. His love for Erin had always been transparent, but I now wondered if he’d ever felt as confident in her love for him until this very moment when someone he barely knew pointed it out to him so matter-of-factly. Reaching out, I rested my hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, my smile growing wider when he patted my hand with his and let out a shaky puff of air.

“Oh, youhavebeen busy,” Erin said as she smiled like a Cheshire, her hand gripping Leland’s, and her eyes glazing over as she read him.

Even with his head turned to the side on the table, he snarled at her and tried again to get out of their grip but failed, Bailey bracing him in place by the side of his head.

George opened his folder, withdrew what looked like an enlarged copy of the polaroid that I’d seen earlier and held it up so Leland could see it. “Let’s start with something simple. This was found in an agent’s house approximately six weeks ago. Did you take the photo?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Yes, he took the photo. And you’re proud of that, aren’t you?” Erin asked, tilting her head to the side, the smile dropping from her face as venom filled her eyes instead of the glazed look she had when she was reading. “As an aside, Leland, that picture is of my son. I don’t appreciate his privacy being violated like that.”

He glared at her and clamped his lips together.

George put the image upside down and to the side, then picked up the next one. It looked like a traffic still, but I didn’tunderstand the relevance. Once more, George held it in front of Leland’s face so he could see it. “This was taken last night when the same agent and his partner were being followed. Is this your vehicle, Leland?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Leland, you’re just being repetitive now,” Bailey muttered, shaking his head. “Where’s the creativity in your language? The pizazz? The originality? Take some pride in your work, man, for Christ’s sake.”

“Fuck—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bailey said, rolling his eyes. “Heard it the first million times. Jesus.”

“He’s fighting me.” Erin narrowed her glazed over eyes and leaned slightly over the table. “How are you fighting me, Leland?”

“Fuck—”

Bailey lifted Leland’s head by his hair and slammed it down on the table again. “I told you to be nice, Leland. Answer the nice lady’s question.”

Leland snarled, before spitting out, “Not my car.”

Erin frowned, but said, somewhat hesitantly, “True.” Without letting go of his hand, she got up from her chair and came around the desk to get closer to Leland. “How are you blocking me, Leland?”

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