Free Vacant by Alex Hughes Page A

had almost beenkidnapped today. Her reservations seemed normal to me, if big.
    â€œYou’re welcome to be there the whole time,” I said. “In fact, it would probably help things.”
    â€œWhat exactly will you be doing with my son?” she asked finally.
    Loyola came out in the hall and shut the door. “Ma’am, Ward checks out. He was specifically recruited by the FBI agent in charge of this situation because he can do the job in front of us. We’ve worked with telepaths many, many times before. There’s a level of coordination and early warning you just can’t get any other way, and I’d highly recommend you cooperate fully with the process. It will keep your son much safer.”
    I was surprised. I hadn’t expected him to go along with this that easily.
    It didn’t mean he liked me, his mind added loudly enough that I’d be sure to pick it up. But united front and successful assignments and all that.
    â€œWhat exactly are you going to do to my son?” the judge asked again.
    That was the question, wasn’t it? I pulled on very old school lessons in Minding and best practices for Minding children. “I need—with his permission—to make a light connection with your son’s mind for the next few days, or until whoever it is that is threatening you both is caught. And I need to stay within about a hundred feet of him during that time, night and day, no matter what else is happening.”
    â€œYou want to be in the same room as my son while he’s sleeping,” the judge said, not happy.
    â€œIt’s best practices. We’ve worked with telepaths many times before and they’re trained to a very high standard,”Loyola said. “I’ve had them in and out of my own head multiple times.”
    â€œNext room is fine,” I said.
    â€œYou can stay with your son yourself if it would make you more comfortable,” Loyola said. “But starting tomorrow morning the majority of the FBI will be tracking active leads, and you’ve requested the security to be at the courthouse, not here. A telepath and a physical guard—meaning, me—are pretty much all we’re going to have to work with, other than local PD drive-bys. I’d suggest you let us do our jobs. I’m still happy to move everyone to the safe house,” he added, with a spot of hopefulness.
    â€œWe’re staying here,” the judge said, with steel, like they’d had this conversation before. “If you won’t let us go to my mother’s in Washington State, we’ll stay in the house. Thanks. Tommy’s had a horrible day, and taking him out of familiar surroundings is not how we take care of my son. I told you. You either work with my decision or you leave.”
    â€œDo you have any specific questions?” I asked. Then, to assuage her understandable fear: “I’m happy to demonstrate what I’ll be doing on you first, if it will make you more comfortable.”
    She swallowed, and I felt a burst of nerves. Ah, looked like what was driving her reluctance was an underlying fear of telepaths. Looked like the kind of low-level fear half the normal population had as a result of horrible news stories and endless telepath villains in movies. Great. Another one.
    She shook her head. “If the feds say it’s necessary, and they’ve done this before, I have no reason to object. But be aware both I and the other agents will be checking in at unpredictable intervals.”
    I blinked. I had been expecting an outright no, or a demand to experience the properties of the thing herself. “That’s fine,” I said.
    The kid in the other room was getting impatient, I noticed. He’d get up in a moment to see what was going on. I had a sudden attack of nerves myself. I needed to be here. But for what, I didn’t know. The universe thought I could make a difference, save this kid, I told myself, or I