Free Deja Blue by Robert W Walker Page A

nature or her credit card, OK?”
     
“In other words, have no fun whatsoever?”
     
“Exactly—no plastic loans.”
     
“Why don’t you just have me stuffed and put in a museum someplace, Ma?”
     
“Sending you a hug over the phone.”
     
“Caught it.”
     
“And a kiss.” “Got it.”
     
    Did she have to sound so bored? “What a beautiful young woman you’ve become, and now you’ve got an excellent chance to prove how responsible you can be.”
     
    “Awww, Mom. Look, I gotta go. Class, you know, Mr. Moore, history.”
     
    “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?” “Cut it out, will ya? Gotta run!”
     
    People’re watching from the windows , Rae thought, not sure what this meant except to recall the two girls who’d been far too interested in her and her daughter’s conversation outside the school. Rae had never understood the urge in people to screw with the lives of others in a world in which just getting by was hard enough without idiots throwing up obstacles. She didn’t understand the urge in people, but apparently bored out of their skulls with their own lives, some people created drama. Some wanted to live the lives of others they perceived as having a better or more interesting life, perhaps. Many seemed among a class of people who prized and valued hurting others; many were among a class of people who were proud of their own ignorance and lack of that thing called ‘the milk’ of human kindness.
     
    It sounded as wrong as an upside down cup of coffee, Nia saying she must rush to history class. Nia had never been a huge fan of history class, though she once said Mr. Moore was cool. She finally said to Nia, “I love you, kiddo!” But Nia had already hung up.
     
    Inwardly, Rae just knew that Nia’s soul still reeled over Rae’s brush with death not so long ago. Rae felt it in her every fiber. No amount of reassurance could dissipate this fact. Like a stout door closed between them, the issue was locked from discussion. So their talk had remained light fair by comparison.
     
    Rae’s phone rang again. Again Nia. “Sorry, Mom, reception sucks in the girl’s bathroom in the sub-levels. Called back to say I love you, too, and watch out for Hammerhead.”
     
    “ Hammerhead ?” asked Rae. “Is that what he’s being called among the young?” CNN, Fox, and others had covered the story extensively, so there lived few on the planet who didn’t know the nature of Charleston’s bizarre problem.
     
“Yeah, Hammerhead.” “Psycho is what he is.”
     
“Just you be careful at all times, and trust no one, Mom. That’s what got you in over your head last time.”
     
“Trust no one?”
     
“No one, ever.”
     
“What about me trusting you, kiddo?”
     
“That’s different.” “Ahhh…OK…good to know.” Rae kiss-kissed into the phone, and again they said their good-byes.
     
“Call me,” Nia cried out.
     
“Call you when I get settled somewhere in the Mountain State.”
     

 
     
     
    TEN
     
     
     
    Not long after speaking to Nia, Rae Hiyakawa sat in the company of Orvison and Kunati aboard an FBI jet bound for Charleston, West Virginia. The two detectives from Charleston didn’t make conversation as Orvison, obviously a man who hadn’t slept well since the first hammering murder in his city had occurred, had found slumber to the roar of the jet. Kunati remained aloof and wary, and whenever asked a question about the case, exploring what threads and patterns between and among the victims had been found, Amos Kunati gave out with one and two word answers, if not a grunt. As a result, Rae found herself quietly thumbing through the case files once more, and when she had seen enough, she went seeking out a warmer environment—the cockpit.
     
    She was welcomed by the pilot and co-pilot, Nick Parsalls and a smiling Joseph Rosiek, both of whom she’d flown with before. On occasion, even before the miraculous CRAWL software was installed, Rae would be