Free Convergence Point by Liana Brooks Page A

“I mean, hey, babe. How’s tricks?”
    â€œHa-­ha,” Sam said without inflection. “Funny. Are you Devon Bradet?”
    â€œUm, yeah.”
    â€œI’m Agent Rose, I left you a message about meeting today?” Sam said, holding up her badge for inspection. “Do you mind if I come in?”
    â€œOh, right! The clone. Yeah, yeah, come in. I’ve been dying to meet you!”
    She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Officer Clemens is the clone. She isn’t working this case. I’m here to ask you a few questions about your roommate, Henry Troom.”
    Bradet held the door open and gestured to a set of mismatched chairs. His high-­end holoset was paused in the middle of a shoot-­out between blue-­fatigued soldiers and aliens in red shirts. “Do you play?” Bradet asked.
    â€œNo, I’m not a big fan of guns.” And video games hadn’t been at the top of the nuns’ list of acceptable entertainment at school unless you wanted to play Deidre Duck’s ABCs.
    â€œAh, man, you ought to try this! It’s benjo! The top gamers’ mags all say it’s the next big batty-­fang.”
    â€œI’m going to nod and pretend I keep up with youth culture,” Sam said. The way slang changed these days, she felt she needed a dictionary.
    â€œHow old are you, grandma?” Bradet laughed, then suddenly sobered. “Oh, wait. Clones don’t live that long do they? That must have sucked goat balls living in a lab and never getting out. How are you supposed to have a conversation like a normal person if you never see what human culture is like?”
    Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Once again, you have me confused with someone else. I’m not a clone. I’m a CBI agent, and I need to talk to you about your roommate. When’s the last time you saw Henry?”
    â€œBut you are the clone!” Bradet protested. “My boss at the radio station was the one who started the petition to get you removed from our district last September. Remember? I know all about you. Go ahead, ask me anything. I had the whole file memorized, and let me tell you, whoever made your fake backstory did a lousy job. There are holes in it a mile wide. Kills me.”
    Now she wished she’d brought Mac along. He’d have either glared Bradet into submission or made a not-­so-­subtle threat that would shut the idiot up. “Mr. Bradet, I really don’t have time to indulge in your conspiracy theories. Can we talk about Mr. Troom now?”
    â€œOkay.” Bradet leaned forward in his chair, elbows balanced on his knees. “How about tit-­for-­tat. I tell you everything I know about Henry, and you give me the exclusive interview with the only known clone in the bureau? How’s that sound? Pretty stellar, right? Am I right? You know I’m right.”
    What she knew was Bradet had had one too many cups of java this morning. “First, let me make this perfectly clear: I am not a clone. There is no conspiracy. There is nothing unusual about my birth or upbringing. Two, if you don’t want to talk here, I can and will take you down to the holding cell and interrogate you there. That requires extra paperwork . . .” and the sheriff’s permission to borrow a holding cell “ . . . and I hate paperwork. If you make me do extra paperwork, I will make it worth my while by not only asking about your roommate, but also putting you at the top of my suspect pool. How do you feel about a complete and thorough examination of your finances? Did you pay taxes for these lovely games donated to you?” Sam nodded and smiled. She tried to make it a sweet, nonthreatening sort of smile that she’d always used to make ­people want to agree with her.
    She was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.
    Somehow, she’d lost the knack for smiling like that over the past year. Edwin once said