Carpe Corpus Page 0,5

the person other people were scared to see coming.

None of the adults looked at her directly, but she could feel them studying her out of the corners of their eyes.

"He's got a full house today, Claire," Nora continued, and nodded toward the waiting area. "I'll let him know you're here. We'll try to work you in."

"She can go ahead of me," one of the men said. The others looked at him, and he shrugged. "Don't hurt none to be nice."

But it wasn't being nice; Claire knew that. It was simple self-interest, sucking up to the girl who acted as Bishop's go-between to the human community. She was important now. She hated every minute of that.

"I won't be long," she said. He didn't meet her gaze at all.

Nora gestured her toward the closed door at the back. "I'll let him know you're coming. Mr. Golder, you'll be next as soon as she's done."

Mr. Golder, who'd given up his place for Claire, nodded back. He was a sun-weathered man, skin like old boots, with eyes the color of dirty ice. Claire didn't know him, but he smiled at her as she passed. It looked forced.

She didn't smile back. She didn't have the heart to pretend.

Claire knocked hesitantly on the closed door as she eased it open, peeking around the edge like she was afraid to catch Richard doing something . . . well, non mayorly. But he was just sitting behind his desk, reading a file folder full of papers.

"Claire." He closed the file and sat back in his old leather chair, which creaked and groaned. "How are you holding up?" He stood up to offer her his hand, which she shook, and then they both sat down. She'd gotten so used to seeing Richard in a neatly pressed police uniform that it still felt odd to see him in a suit - a nice pin-striped one today, in gray, with a blue tie. He wasn't that old - not even thirty, she'd guess - but he carried himself like somebody twice his age.

They had that in common, she guessed. She didn't feel seventeen these days, either.

"I'm okay," she said, which was a lie. "Hanging in there. I came to - "

"I know what you're going to ask," Richard said. "The answer's still no, Claire." He sounded sorry about it, but firm.

Claire swallowed hard. She hadn't expected to get a no right off the bat. Richard usually heard her out. "Five minutes," she said. "Please. Haven't I earned it?"

"Definitely. But it's not my call. If you want permission to see Shane, you have to go to Bishop." Richard's eyes were kind, but unyielding. "I'm doing all I can to keep him alive and safe. I want you to know that."

"I know you are, and I'm grateful. Really." Her heart sank. Somehow, she'd had her hopes up, even though she'd known it wouldn't work out, today of all days. She studied her hands in her lap. "How is he doing?"

"Shane?" Richard laughed softly. "How do you expect him to be? Pissed off. Angry at the world. Hating every minute of this, especially since he's stuck in there with nobody but his father for company."

"But you've seen him?"

"I've dropped in," Richard said. "Official duties. So far, Bishop hasn't seen fit to yank my chain and make me stop touring the cells, but if I try to get you in . . ."

"I understand." She did, but Claire still felt heartsick. "Does he ask - "

"Shane asks about you every day," Richard said very quietly. "Every single day. I think that boy might really love you. And I never thought I'd be saying that about Shane Collins."

Her fingers were trembling now, a fine vibration that made her clench them into fists to make it stop. "It's my birthday." She had no idea why she said that, but it seemed to make sense at the time. It seemed important. Looking up, she saw she'd surprised him with that, and he was temporarily at a loss for words.

"Offering congratulations doesn't seem too appropriate," he said. "So. You're seventeen, right? That's old enough to know when you're in over your head. Claire, just go home. Spend the day with your parents, maybe see your friends. Take care of yourself."

"No. I want to see Shane," she said.

He shook his head. "I really don't think that's a very good idea."

He meant well; she knew that. He came around the desk and put his hand on her shoulder, a kind of