to meet Charlie and get a token of McNaught’s. Brian had tried to get McNaught’s trace off his doorknob and his shed yesterday, but he hadn’t been able to latch on. You’d think someone’s house was personal, but apparently not enough for Finding, and the man was too much of a control freak to leave tools lying around or his shed unlocked. Lori had come up with a scheme to get something off the man’s desk at work.
Brian touched Nick’s knee. “I’m not going to burn myself out.”
“Better not.” He was trusting Brian to tell the truth about that. That’s adult relationshipping, right?
They looped around a couple blocks and turned in at the corner store. A few minutes later, Charlie pulled into the parking space beside them. In the passenger seat, Lori peered down at her nails, angling her file just so, not even glancing their way. Nick and Charlie got out and he followed Charlie inside. Nick bought a couple of packs of cupcakes, Charlie got whatever he was getting, and they tangled accidentally on purpose going out the door, moving on with a casual greeting.
When they got back to their cars, Charlie pulled out first, heading home with Lori. He’d drop her off, then take up the scanner surveillance on Sam. Nick opened the plastic bag they’d swapped in the collision. Twinkies. It figured. And a ballpoint pen that was almost out of ink.
He held the bag out to Brian. “You think a pen will work?”
“Maybe? If he used it enough and didn’t loan it out to other people.”
Brian began to reach for it, but Nick touched his arm. “Hang on. Wait till I park somewhere quieter.” He found a parking lot off a small playground. Pulling in under an overhanging tree, he put the car in park. “Okay. Go for it.”
Brian reached in and took out the battered pen, turning it in his fingers. He glanced at Nick. “There’s no chance they’re watching us, right? They wouldn’t follow Lori?”
“Nah. That cloak-and-dagger stuff was Charlie being paranoid. And even if they did, which they totally didn’t, what would they do? Arrest us for taking a used plastic pen off McNaught’s desk?”
“Lori scammed her way in there.”
“None of her story was a total lie, and she got a kick out of it.” She had, too. Her eyes had sparkled when they planned it. “It’s just an old ballpoint.”
“Yeah.” Brian sat back in his seat, closed his fist around the pen, and let his eyes unfocus.
Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing Brian Finding. There was normally something very present about Brian, even when he was being Bry. He lived in the moment more than most folk Nick knew. Finding leached that out of his face. He went blank, his focus turned inward.
It was fucking dangerous, too, because he had no awareness of things actually around him. Nick still flinched at him talking about Finding his mom as a kid, how Lori would steer him across streets and basically keep him from getting creamed by a bus or mugged while he did it. The thought of young Brian, all innocent and small and soft, wandering down the worst streets of Minneapolis with his eyes staring at nothing, could give Nick an ulcer.
He made it out alive. And now he had Nick to make sure he stayed that way. Nick turned farther sideways to watch Brian’s face.
There was always a moment, even before he said anything, when he’d tense up as he latched on to a trace. Nick could see it, like metal filings turning to a magnet, how Brian was pulled down toward the thing in his hand.
“Got him.” His voice was hoarse. “Smells like fireworks.” His hand rose and pointed in that disembodied way. “There.”
Nick’s phone GPS said that was exactly the direction of the sheriff station. “Got it.” He wrapped his hand around Brian’s, folding that pointing finger in, shaking his arm lightly. “Let it go.” He pulled the pen out of Brian’s grasp. “Enough.”
Brian stiffened, then took a slow breath and dropped his hands into his lap. His eyes regained their winter-sky color as his pupils shrank back to normal. After a moment, he gave Nick a smile, although a crease between his eyebrows said that he hadn’t escaped the headache this time. “The pen worked, I think. Unless it was someone else’s, but it felt like him.”
“You pointed straight toward his work. Right where he ought to be. We’ll confirm it when he’s home.”