Page 145 of Switch!
I leap from Jesse’s body. Finding the motivation is easy. If the man so much as glances upward, he might be able to identify Jesse later on. So far he hasn’t seen any of us, and I intend to keep it that way. The instant I’m in his body, I attempt to take over. No luck. He’s too on edge. The man looks up and sees the cuff of blue jeans and a socked foot disappearing up the stairs as Jesse retreats.
“Holy shit!” he hisses. The man reaches for his phone to call the police, already thinking of what he’ll say.This is Ingrid Kowalski. Someone broke into my employer’s house. I’m there now. Please send help!
Wait, Ingrid isn’t a man’s name… is it? I reassess the situation and notice how this body feels different from the others I’ve inhabited. I prod Ingrid’s memory and am reminded of how irritated she was when being told by a teacher that she wasn’t allowed to play soccer with the boys. It’s only the briefest flash before her mind focuses on her most immediate need: calling the police.
I can’t let that happen. I narrow my focus in an attempt to assert control.
Cotton chafing skin, the warm air of a tight pocket, rubbery protective case colliding with fingertips…
She grabs the phone and pulls it out, despite my best effort to stop her. I’m still in Phase One. Ingrid’s mind is a mess of competing instincts, the urge to flee chief among them. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to take control—I thought I couldn’t possess women at all!—but I keep trying anyway in the hope that my efforts are throwing her off, because Ingrid keeps entering the wrong code into her phone. While she’s distracted, I try again.
Palms sweaty, muscles tense…
Ingrid fumbles her phone and drops it. Then she looks up, worried that the intruder is going to rush down the stairs to attack her.
Palms sweaty, muscles tense… run!
I hope choosing an action she’ll want to comply with will be enough to get through her defenses. And it works! Ingrid sprints for the kitchen, but I’m the one pushing her feet against the floor to keep her going. I feel little relief, too concerned that I might think about my friends by name or appearance. Who knows how much of that information might stay with Ingrid once we’ve separated? Even the smallest details could be ruinous.
I delve into her thoughts to get a better understanding of the situation. Ingrid grew up in Poland and first came to the USA on an au pair program and quickly decided that— Too far back. In the present, she does odd jobs for a living, always having had a knack for such things. General maintenance, plumbing, the occasional electrical work… She’ll even make sure the chlorine levels of your pool are right. It’s through such work that she knows Gary. He called her early this morning, upset about suspicious activity on a credit card that should have been locked in his safe. He asked Ingrid to stop by and make sure the house hadn’t been broken into.
That’s bad, but the good news is that Ingrid entered through the front door instead of the garage. She hasn’t seen the two cars parked there, and I quickly put them out of mind. In fact, the best thing I can do is keep her narrative as natural as possible while ensuring she’s out of the way. I can feel her desire to dart into the entryway to grab her phone and call the police. I have another plan. She knows this house. Ingrid has poked around previously out of curiosity, including in the basement, where her favorite item in the glass cabinets was the old revolver.
A gun! I can defend myself with that!
I put this thought into her mind. In truth, I only want her on a different floor so the others can get away. I make Ingrid hurry to the basement stairs before planting another thought.
What if someone is down there?
This slows her as she proceeds more cautiously. I buy my friends time by having her check around each corner before she proceeds. When she finally reaches the music room, the ceiling above us vibrates. One of the garage doors has been opened. Good! It should be two though. Colin parked his car there last night. Why hasn’t it left yet?
I stand in front of the cabinet and create more of a delay by debating if Gary will be angry about me disturbing his prized possessions. I catch sight of my reflection in the glass while there. Ingrid’s hair is short. She’s always been too practical to waste time on such things as makeup. That explains why I clocked her as a man at first glance. It doesn’t explain why my friends are taking so long. Please tell me they weren’t foolish enough to all pile into the same vehicle! I go perfectly still, listening for footsteps above or any other sign of life. I hear a sound, but not upstairs. It’s the gentlest intake of breath from behind me. I spin around to face the door just as a shadow pulls back. Was that a streak of purple I saw? Why would any of my friends be down here? I look back at the glass cabinet, to the violin in particular. If there’s one object that could be a source of temptation… I force my eyes away from it to the gun instead.
“I’m armed!” I shout. “Don’t make me shoot you!”
Footsteps whisk away across the carpet. I open the cabinet and take out the gun, never intending to use it. I only want to keep Ingrid occupied. By the time I have her creep toward the door with the revolver in hand, we both hear the rumbling of another garage door. That should do it! I relinquish control, not wanting to accidentally give any details away, and keep my thoughts focused solely on the present moment. Ingrid cautiously returns upstairs, grabs her phone, and calls the police. Then she checks the gun and notices it isn’t loaded or even likely to work. She keeps it anyway, tucking it in the waistband above her butt before going outside to await the police.
Once a squad car arrives, I feel like I’m watching a TV show as the officers enter with their guns drawn. When they come back out again, it’s only to take a statement. I pay attention to every word Ingrid speaks, alert for anything too close to the truth.
“There was more than one trespasser,” she says. “I’m certain I heard two cars drive away.”
“Or maybe they stole the owner’s car,” one of the officers suggests. His gray mustache is tinged with brown, like it got dyed from drinking too much coffee.
“I can go inside and look. I know what he drives.”
The officer shrugs. “We’ll check with the neighbors. Someone’s security camera probably caught them driving away.”
Great. How will we ever relax again with that possibility dangling over our heads? We’ll never know if they captured our license plate numbers until they come to arrest us. Unless I tag along with the police. I leave Ingrid’s body and possess Officer Rubens. The first thing I discover is that he’s not particularly interested in this crime. He waits until Ingrid drives away before getting back into his police cruiser. He begins filling out a report without bothering to talk to the neighbors.
Waste of time,he thinks after some gentle prodding.Homeowners insurance will cover anything that’s missing, not that these rich bastards would have trouble replacing it on their own.
Not a fan of the one percent, it would seem. I stick with Officer Reubens as dispatch sends him after kids who were seen spray painting in an alley. All he finds is the artwork they left behind, so he returns to the station to finalize both reports. I read these as he writes, noticing that he doesn’t suggest any investigation or follow up. I think we’re going to be okay.
When he goes back on patrol, I stay with him until I see a car delivering pizzas. That’s perfect. I switch with the driver, take control at the next stoplight, and have him park at the only place I expect to find my friends. Patrick’s old apartment. After knocking, I can hear a muted conversation beyond the door before it finally opens. Colin is standing there looking wide-eyed and paranoid.
“Anyone order a pizza?” I ask before making the leap to his body.
“Not us,” Colin says. He thinks this might be a sting operation. “Me!” he quickly amends. “Notme, I meant to say. I’m all alone here. Ha ha!”
