Free The List by J.A. Konrath

part of him with her, a part that still was vacant and hollow. He wondered if he’d ever be able to fill that emptiness again.
    Bert belched, interrupting his reverie. Tom lightly touched his scalp where the bullet had grazed him. Six stitches. The doctor had wanted to shave off the hair around the wound so it could be bandaged, but Tom wouldn’t allow it. It was bad enough looking like Quasimodo—shaving half his head was out of the question.
    He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Almost ten o’clock.
    After their trip to the hospital, it took three hours to debrief the Rosemont Police Department. RPD kept things cordial, considering they’d had their jurisdiction trampled on and hadn’t been informed.
    Tom’s own boss, Lieutenant Daniels, hadn’t been as charitable.
    She chewed them out, promising a full investigation of the incident, and demanding that next time they follow correct protocol for operating out of their territory.
    Tom took another sip of beer, and found the bottle empty. He grabbed two more from the fridge. Bert took his, nodding a thanks.
    “You know, when we were back there getting shot at, I had one of those moments where my whole life flashed before my eyes.”
    “So I gathered.”
    “I’ve had a boring life. Not a bad one—just very mediocre. But since Jessup told me that I’m Einstein, it’s given me a new reason to live. I mean, I’m actually somebody now. You know what I mean?”
    “Not really.”
    “Don’t you feel any different, knowing you’re Thomas Jefferson?”
    Tom picked at the label on his beer with a thumbnail.
    “I don’t know how to feel. Suppose I am Jefferson. What does that mean, exactly? I may have the same genes, but I’m not the same man. I didn’t do all of those great things that he did. I’m still Tom Mankowski, no matter what my face looks like. Aren’t I?”
    “I’ve been struggling with this one, too. Here I’ve got Einstein’s brain.” Bert tapped his temple. “The brain of the most brilliant man to ever walk the earth. And what am I doing? I buy and sell fishing lures.”
    Tom opened their beers and took a long pull. “You’re just a salesman, I’m just a cop. Not quite living up to our genetic potential, are we?”
    “Is there such a thing? Does anyone truly live up to their potential? Here’s a good question for you—is greatness in a person born or made?”
    Tom didn’t have an answer.
    “I think it’s a combination.” Bert scratched at the bandage on his chin. “Some people are born with a fire inside them. The will to succeed. It isn’t a learned behavior. It’s just some unknown biological factor that makes them try harder.”
    Tom stared into Bert’s eyes. Einstein’s eyes.
    “Do you think you have that fire in you?”
    Bert took a moment before answering. “Sometimes... sometimes I really think I do.”
    They finished their second beers. Bert went for the thirds, throwing out the empty six-pack container.
    “Your friend’s going to be upset we drank all his beer.”
    “He’ll be fine. He was drugged up and in pain, that’s all.”
    “He hates me.”
    “He doesn’t hate you.”
    “He won’t let me use the toilet.”
    “You can use the toilet, Bert. It’ll be fine.”
    Bert opened the beers and set one before Tom.
    “So what’s the story with the lures?” Tom gestured at the suitcases. “Let me guess—your dad is a fisherman.”
    “Wrong. Physics professor. The lures are an investment. Look at it this way—things like stock, or gold, or real estate—they fluctuate with the market, but they more or less go up steadily. But with collectibles like dolls or toys or fishing lures, the potential for profit...”
    “Hold on a sec,” Tom interrupted.
    This couldn’t be a coincidence. Bert’s dad was a physics teacher.
    Tom’s dad was a politician. Jessup’s dad was an inventor.
    “That Tennessee cop, the clone of Robert E. Lee. You think his father was in the military?
    “So?” Bert didn’t see