Free Dragonfly Bones by David Cole Page A

your head can stop them and once they’re out, they’re in the air. Maybe it was him being Navajo, I don’t know, there was something about him. I’d seen his smile at the word, a sardonic smile, though, not narcissistic or self-involved, just a recognition of something about him that he never really acknowledged to himself. But he was handsome, he was incredibly trim, he looked like… Stupid stupid don’t go there, I thought. Enough Navajo men in my life.
    â€œDo you lift free weights?” I found myself saying.
    â€œEvery other day. I also believe there are many universes. Like science fiction. Like, there’s another version of you and me operating in another universe.”
    â€œNow, that really freaks me out,” I said.
    â€œOkay. Here’s why Don had you meet me here. Three days ago, a federal prisoner at Leavenworth asked to see the deputy warden. Told the warden that she had information on a monster identity-theft ring being operated from inside a prison. You’ve heard, I’m sure? Some of the 800 number call centers have contracts with prisons? Help lines, customer service, catalog ordering?”
    â€œHeard about it, yes. Never came across it personally.”
    â€œEverybody orders from catalogs. Don’t you?”
    I nodded.
    â€œAnd you called some toll-free number, right?” I nodded. “You ever really know, even care, where that person was? Who that person was?”
    â€œDon already went through that dance with me. This federal prisoner, what’s he got to do with me?”
    â€œNot he. She.”
    I waited. He tapped the manila envelope, pushed his plate and silverware aside, cleaned the plastic tabletop, started spinning the envelope by flicking a corner with his fingernails.
    â€œI’m not sure.”
    The spinning envelope started to annoy me, I knew it was a tell, a giveaway sign that he was nervous, possibly because he didn’t know what was inside the envelope, possibly because, in spite of his promise, it was some threat to me, some government document, a warrant, I’d violated security somewhere, hard to know, I violated computer security regularly. I slapped my hands down on the envelope and startled him for a few seconds. He stretched out his fingers.
    â€œI’m not supposed to look in this envelope unless you agree to help us.”
    Picking it up, I looked at the flap, glued shut, threw it down again.
    I’m getting good at social exchanges. I’m not anywhere near as intimidated as I used to be.
    â€œThis prisoner—”
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œA young woman. Abbe Consuelo Dominguez. Abbe pronounced like ‘Abbie,’ but spelled A-b-b-e. Early twenties, doing eighteen months on federal mail fraud. Actually a hacker. Like you. But got nailed when she sent a list of a thousand credit card numbers through the mail.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œMs. Dominguez says she’ll identify the prison which functioned as a source for identity theft.”
    â€œSo?” I said again.
    â€œBut only, ” he stressed, “only if you would get involved.”
    â€œMe? Involved?”
    â€œYou. Asked for you by name. Told us where to find you.”
    Mind-boggling.
    I quickly ran through some of the names of people I’d been responsible for prison terms. No young women. Quickly ran through the revenge thing, wanted nothing to do with revenge seekers, not after Meg Arizana being kidnapped, that crazy son of a woman we’d once exposed.
    â€œWhere’s this woman now?”
    â€œAt Perryville prison. I brought her down two days ago, from Leavenworth. But I’ve been tied up with another…another case, on federal land. Couldn’t get to you until just now.”
    â€œAnd you want me to talk to this woman?”
    â€œShe wants to talk to you.”
    â€œBut you have no real idea what she wants to tell me.”
    â€œNope.”
    He started spinning the