Arthur Mentis waited in the lobby.
“Hi,” she said bluntly, before mentally shaking herself into a more polite frame. But she couldn’t think of a polite way to ask, What are you doing here?
“I thought you might like some lunch,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood.”
He might very well have been. “You always seem to know exactly when I’m ready to break for lunch.”
“Logic,” he said. “It’s noon. You aren’t implying something nefarious, are you?”
“It’s your babysitting shift, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Yes, actually. But what better way to keep an eye on you?”
If it had been anyone else, her mother or Robbie or even Analise, she’d have grumbled and ranted about how they couldn’t leave her alone, and didn’t they trust her, and couldn’t they show a little respect. But with Arthur, she had to laugh.
They went to the Italian place in the building’s ground floor.
They sat, exchanged pleasantries. Her parents were fine. He’d convinced them not to call right away after the latest kidnapping, for which she expressed her gratitude.
“Do you want to talk about it? You seemed rather upset yesterday.”
At least he waited until the breadsticks were out before asking. “Are you asking as a psychologist or as a friend?”
“Which do you prefer?”
Psychologist implied she needed counseling, that something was wrong with her. While that very well may have been true, she’d been doing pretty well lately—she thought—and preferred to maintain the illusion. “Friend, I suppose. It wasn’t the kidnapping that upset me. It was finding out about the surveillance. That you guys have been keeping tabs on me, in secret.”
“Typhoon told you?”
“I confronted her. She showed up too quickly. I just want to be left alone, to take care of myself—but I can’t do that, evidently. Not when it seems like half the town’s crooks are after me. I guess I need superhuman bodyguards. I hate that I can’t get away from that part of my past. I’ll never get away. I’m not making choices about my life, it’s all just … trapping me. No matter what I do. I’ve worked so hard—”
“What else?”
What else indeed? What wasn’t there? “Sito’s defense called me to testify. I think they want to use me to discredit the prosecution. Bronson’s trying to get me out of it, but it doesn’t look good. It’s all going to come out.” She wanted to pretend it didn’t bother her so much, but thinking about it made her either want to break a chair or burst into tears. She tried to clamp down on the feelings. But around Arthur, why bother? So she seethed, quietly.
“Would you like me to do something about it?”
“Like what—change the defense attorney’s mind for him? Mess with the judge?” She said this last in a whisper.
He didn’t react. He never reacted. She might have asked him to pass the sugar, as concerned as he seemed. He’d do it, too, she realized. If she asked.
“Could you?” she said. “I mean, I know you could. But would you? It’s not right, you know.”
He shrugged. “There’s right and then there’s right. You don’t deserve to get raked over the coals for this.”
As he said, there was right and then there was right.
“No, I guess not. But if I don’t want you guys around at all, I can’t come running to you for help when I want it. It’ll be okay. I’ll get through it.”
He smiled thinly. “I knew you’d say that. And what if the record does come out? You were a rebellious kid who made a mistake. Most of the people in that courtroom have made mistakes. Any witness the defense calls, Bronson can cross-examine. No matter what they make you say, Bronson can clean it up. I’ll coach him. I made the temporary insanity diagnosis not to keep you out of jail, but because it was true. In rebelling against your parents, you identified with their enemy, and it was totally irrational. You weren’t in your right mind. Here’s the ultimate proof: After that incident, what did you do? Did you get in trouble again? Did you spiral down into a life of crime and mayhem? Did you return to Sito’s clutches? No. You disappeared for four years, and it was the best possible thing you could have done. You came back from college a different person. You were more confident, you could take care of yourself, and you no longer depended on your parents for your identity. You simply aren’t the same person.”
“You can see all that because you’re telepathic.”
He huffed. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re a decent human being.”
“Even Dad?”
“If he ever actually looked at you, he’d see it. But he’s a man who’s very good at seeing what he wants to see.”