The sheriff’s office is much like we’d left it. Most of the kids are gone. The Community Shelter Board, who was working to find their families, had collected all the Guatemalan girls, and all the rest had family on their way to collect them. All except for Amir Amin, who had nobody and nowhere to go. Well, I’d have to see about that.

  Abernathy leads us into his conference room where Detectives Torelli and Smythe stand up to shake hands with the others and introduce themselves to the Akron contingent.

  The room is a rectangle with the entrance on one of the long sides opposite a row of windows. To the left of the door, photographs, papers, and sticky notes cover the wall. One grouping is dedicated to Lansky and the Norrises, one to the bank robbers and the lone kidnapper we’d run off the road, one to the Wild Specters, and in the center, whatever was known about the local uptick in missing persons and children.

  Abernathy says as we take our seats, “I’m still not sure the bikers belong up there. Lots of their illegal activity was local, but the kidnappings were not even close.”

  Smythe shakes her head and says, “What gets me is that they’re still here.”

  Several of the others nod and seem deep in thought.

  “Why’s that?” I ask.

  “Biker gangs are fairly mobile. Nomadic even,” says Tyler. “The Specters are famous for it. We have a bunch in custody and they’re tight-lipped, but we have a lot of their data. It’ll lead to more warrants. They should be gone, but they’re not.”

  Smythe says, “Could it be Ben? More of them know what he looks like now. He kinda bearded them in their own den, so to speak. Maybe they want a shot at him.”

  Oh. Great.

  Tyler says, “Maybe. There’s too much we don’t know. I’d feel better if we continue on the basis that there’s a connection there that we can’t see yet until we prove otherwise, especially now that we have information suggesting this might lead to a mass event.”

  Something’s bothering me. There’s a little tickle in my brain, the sensation that I’m missing something and I’m about to figure out what it is, but it doesn’t quite deliver.

  Abernathy scowls, thinking. “Okay, so let’s start with the Norrises and Ms. Lansky. We know she invaded the home where she and her partner, whom we’ve yet to identify, subdued the family — mom, dad, three kids all under thirteen — then opened a portal to another dimension where they got Mr. Walker here instead of their intended target. They needed six?”

  Torelli says, “Contractual.”

  Abernathy nods. “That’s my read. Lansky contracted for six. Used the resources of the Norrises to create the portal to roofie some young woman at the bar. Agent Tyler, your report says that this Adam character told you she was going to sell them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it.” Everybody looks at me. “I mean, I get that it’s tricky to trace kidnappings from other dimensions. Nobody where I’m from even knows that’s possible, but isn’t that a lot of extra work when Lansky can just snatch up people here that wouldn’t be missed?”

  Smythe spreads her hands. “Easier doesn’t mean better. We don’t like anybody being taken, of course, and we’ll look into any kidnappings we hear about, so there’s always a chance we’ll get involved and we’re already on to Lansky.”

  Tyler nods. “That and a young woman from your world is likely to have more potential than your average homeless person or prostitute, statistically speaking.”

  I feel a little sick. “Man, that’s cold.”

  Torelli grunts.

  Smythe sighs. “It’s a cold business.”

  “Anything more to add to the Norrises and Lansky?” Abernathy looks about the room.

  Nobody says anything.

  “What do forensics have for us with the bank robbers and the asshole who grabbed the mayor’s nephew?” asks Abernathy.

  Smythe says, “What connects them is what isn’t there. There’s still no sign of any explosives or even accelerant. We simply do not know how they exploded. Without a DNA match, we’ll never find out who they were through science, I don’t think, which may have been the motive for blowing them up.”

  Valentino scratches her eyebrow. “You’re running the DNA, I imagine?”

  Smythe nods. “No hits. We’re expanding the search. Federal government. Interpol. The works.”

  Tyler says, “The bank robbery was happening almost at the same time as the kidnapping.”

  Abernathy frowns. “So?”

  “So,” says Tyler. “It was big and flashy. I’m sure they’d have been overjoyed if they’d gotten away with it, but maybe that wasn’t the primary goal. I wonder if the robbery was to tie up your people so the kidnapper could move more easily through your territory, sheriff.”

  “Seems a stretch,” sighs the sheriff.

  Torelli grunts.

  Smythe nods. “Yeah. One would help the other,” she says. “Both at the same time stretches us. Bank robbery and an Amber alert? We have to respond to both, yeah, but the bank robbery is for sure happening. The alert’s local, but we couldn’t know he was moving through here. Still, either one goes south on them, and it only helps them both.”

  Abernathy says, “Maybe.” He looks at Valentino. “Any progress with the kidnapping itself?”

  “We think we know everything,” says Valentino. “The nanny took the boy to the park. It has one of those sprawling jungle gyms with kids crawling all over it. She saw the boy taken from the far side and called it in herself as she pursued, filling in the dispatcher. She got the description of the man and the car to us.”

  “So, not a professional?” says Abernathy.

  Teasdale leans forward. “Our read is that, no, this was probably the guy’s first snatching.”

  It’s a mix of professionals and amateurs. The bikers have an entire network. Lansky does it for a living, but the bank robbers and the kidnapper were newbies. Weird, but what do I know? I’m new at this.

  “Which brings us to the bikers, where honestly we probably have too much information,” says the sheriff. “We’re still going through it all. They got their fingers in so many pies. Drugs, weapons, trafficking….”

  “And they’re still around,” says Monica. “Means there’s a financial reason to stay or a personal one. Or both, which is where I’d put my money.”

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  “Aren’t you suspended pending your hearing?” says the sheriff.

  Monica shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  “Them not liking Ben doesn’t necessarily tie them into all this,” says Abernathy.

  Torelli grunts.

  Smythe says, “Exactly. It doesn’t exclude them either. There’s nothing we’ve turned up that moves the needle one way or the other.”

  “Which leads us back to why Agent Ochoa and I came out this way in the first place,” says Tyler. “A fifty percent uptick in missing persons, mainly juveniles and young people, under mysterious circumstances and rumors in the practitioner community indicate an attempt at a mass event. The Epsilons are notorious raiders. We think they’re here to disrupt that event or use it for their own purposes. We think Adam is here for the same reason.”

  I can see Adam wanting to stop the mass human sacrifice, but take it over? Well, maybe. I don’t know him at all, but he doesn’t seem the type. I think he’d affect a rescue, if he could. Even a partial one where he got some of their intended victims away would….

  Yep. There it is.

  “Um, I’m pretty sure it’s all related,” I say.

  Everybody looks at me.

  The sheriff is rubbing his forehead.

  “Whatcha got?” says Monica, smiling.

  “Agent Tyler, you told me that the bikers made no provision for the Guatemalans at the new address. You found graves dug and quicklime, right?” I say.

  Tyler nods.

  “And not enough workstations for the computer kids?” I say.

  “Holy shit,” says Smythe. “They weren’t going to kill those girls. They sold them!”

  “Yeah,” I say. “If I go to the store for ice cream and can’t find a flavor I like, I don’t have to give up. I can go to another store.”

  Schaffer says, “Lansky failed to deliver. So did the guy with the mayor’s nephew. The buyer shopped around and went to the Specters?”

  Abernathy snorts. “What about the bank robbery?”

  I shrug. “It’s a cover or, well, we know they have some people, right? Because of the people already missing. It has to be expensive to control and feed a bunch of people. Especially kids? And they needed more money, maybe to buy the extra computer boys, since it wouldn’t make sense just to buy the little girls if any young people will do. It makes sense that whoever the buyer was needed more money.”

  My phone dings. I’m pretty sure I have the ringer off. It’s not a sound I’d heard it make before, either. Two tones, from low to high. Very pleasant.

  “Congrats!” says Tyler.

  Most of the people at the table are grinning.

  Smythe says, “Well, that’s good enough for me. Anything in the records we have about the Guatemalans being sold or who bought them?”

  Torelli says, “No.”

  Tyler says, “Gotta be a physical copy then. Their superiors would insist. A ledger or something we haven’t found yet. Either they’ve got it with them, or it’s hidden in either of the locations we have. We need to search both again right now. It could give us the name of whoever’s doing all this.”

  People stand up.

  I stand too and almost bump into the sheriff.

  He shoots me an annoyed look. We’ve never been on the best of terms. I’m so close I see a bruise or something under his left ear that seems familiar. Maybe he had it earlier? He smells of Old Spice, sourdough somehow, and, faintly, of B.O. Well, it’s been a long day.

  Monica gets my attention with a hand on my shoulder. “Take a look,” she says. “At your phone.”

  I do. I see I’ve got a new notification on the App. When I click it, there’s a message. “Wisdom +1,” it says. But, when I check my sheet, it still shows my score is 2. “I don’t get it.”

  Monica looks over my shoulder. “Click on the link there,” she says, pointing at the two.

  I do so.

  Huh. It looks like each attribute has its own little page. This one, entitled ‘Wisdom,’ shows my score as 2.2.1. There’s a description below.

  Your Wisdom score is Average, globally. Within that third, you are Average. Within that third you are Below Average.

  You have recently increased from Average, Below Average, Below Average. Congratulations!

  “I still don’t get it.”

  Monica nudges me with an elbow. “It’s a good thing, Ben. Look, these attributes don’t have any meaning except relative to everybody else, right? That first score, the one that you normally see without digging any deeper into your sheet?”

  I nod.

  “It’s where you fit in out of everybody. Your Wisdom is average. Then, the App considers. What about within that third?” She counts off on her fingers. “Above Average, Average, Below Average. Three, see?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, within that Average bunch, where are you? Well, you used to be Below Average there, but what’s Wisdom, anyway?”

  I frown, thinking. “You know, I don’t think anybody’s ever asked me that. I figure I know what it is, though.”

  “The operating definition is using your experience and intelligence to predict outcomes. With your insight into the robbery, you got wiser.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ve always had an easier time thinking of Wisdom in terms of its opposite. Foolishness. Everybody knows what a fool is. Harder to define the wise.”

  “Huh,” I say. “I’m less a fool now, I guess.”

  “Nobody’s perfect,” says Monica.

  “Why’s everybody excited?” I say.

  “A Prime Attribute score increase right then?” she says. “It’d be weird if your guess was wrong.”

  “Seems like more of an Intelligence thing,” I say. “Figuring that out.”

  Monica shakes her head. “They’re supposed to work together,” she says. “Wisdom and Intelligence. Like I said, your conclusion was more about what people were likely to do, which is a function of Wisdom. You based that on what we knew about it all, which is a function of Intelligence.”

  “Ah.”

  “You’ve been making a lot of good choices too, I think, which helps. You’ll get the hang of it,” she says. “Oh! I’ve got an idea.” There’s a printer over by the door. She raids it for a sheet of paper. She takes it over to a map of the town tacked up on the wall. Picks up a red dry-erase marker and draws two circles on the paper. One over the place where I rescued the kids and one over the other Specter location. She slaps the paper down in front of me, hands me the marker, and says, “Now, show us where the ledger is.”

  I grin and close my eyes. I reopen them to make sure the marker’s cap is still off. It is. I close my eyes, Push, and flip the marker.

  Monica tsks.

  When I look at the paper, I see a red dot about equidistant between the two circles.

  Monica says, “Try again.”

  I do.

  At first, I think I’ve missed entirely, that the ass end of the marker landed instead of the tip because there’s no new mark on the paper. Yet I distinctly remember the soft thud of felt hitting wood rather than the clack of plastic. I look closer and see a smudge over the old mark. I’ve hit the same place twice.

  Monica picks up the paper and takes it to the map. She makes sure that the circles line up perfectly, then jams a thumbtack through my red mark. She takes the tack out and removes the paper and looks at the new hole in the map.

  “I wonder what’s at the corner of Third and Chestnut?” she says.

  We hurry out the door.

  The sheriff’s trailing Smythe and Torelli while the Akron folks head toward the front where they’d parked. I don’t see Tyler. She’s either outside already or in the bathroom or something.

  “Are we going to tell them?” I say.

  Monica nods. “I’ll tell Cal and she’ll relay it to the others. The places need searched again, anyway.”

  “But—.”

  “Nah,” says Monica, waving away my objection. “Your luck leads you to things, yes, but sometimes they lead us to things other than what we’re looking for or have you forgotten Applebee’s?”

  “Right.”

  “Wait here.”

  I do. Just standing there in the hallway. Awkwardly. You know, waiting.

  “Mr. Walker?”

  I look over to see Dr. Linn. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her and she’s leaning over, being delicate with her intrusion. I smile at her. “Doc? You’re still here? That’s a long day.”

  “The kids needed me,” she says. “Well, they needed somebody. I hope I helped.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  She looks at me and takes a breath. “You should really talk to someone too, you know? Professionally? You’ve been through a lot very quickly. It takes a while for people to process things. To understand them? You might be experiencing symptoms of PTSD, too. I’d be surprised if you weren’t. I could recommend several very good—.”

  “Whoa, whoa, Dr. Linn,” I say. “You’re probably right. My dad’s in therapy. He battles depression. He got mom to go a few times. They both have convinced me it’s a good thing. Most people should go. You’re right.” I pause. It’s her kindness and I miss my parents and I need a moment. Just a quick one. Then I say, “I should probably see somebody. You got a card?”

  “Me?” she says. “Uh, yes, but I’m… not taking patients right now.” She hands me her card. “Unless it’s one of the kids here, of course. That goes without saying. Still, if you need to talk or want to, I suppose we could sometime. You seem okay after all that. I mean, you can’t be, but you’re upright and functional?”

  “Uh, yeah. Okay, sure. I’ll email you or something for those recommendations,” I say. “Thanks, doc.”

  “Okay, bye.” And Dr. Linn turns and hurries back down the hall.

  “What was that about?” I say aloud.

  “Two possibilities,” says Monica from nowhere.

  I jump about ten feet.

  She shrugs. “I’m stealthy,” she says. She’s standing just behind me by my elbow. “Two possible reasons she doesn’t want you as a client. One is that she is full up. Hmm. She also just said she was leaving space for the kids here. Those aren’t necessarily contradictory. She’s in charge of her schedule and could give herself over time, you know?”

  I nod. “The second reason?”

  Monica’s eyes narrow a bit and then she shrugs it off. “She likes you.”