Free Dial Em for Murder by Marni Bates Page B

moguls and, y’know, oil tycoon types?”
    He snorted but otherwise didn’t bother with a response. Still, I thought I caught a smile lurking on his craggy face. My mom told me once to never underestimate the power of asking someone else about their life experiences. She said it was the fastest way to make a friend and break an enemy, so I decided to press on.
    “Do you have a favorite tough guy phrase?”
    That one actually got him to briefly meet my gaze with a glance in the rearview mirror. “A what?”
    “A tough guy phrase.
Go ahead, make my day
,” I said with all the menace I could muster. “Or maybe,
I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork
.”
    He shook his head. “The president of Chile. And it wasn’t with a fork.”
    “No, I’m pretty sure I got the line right. My mom is a big John Cusack fan so I was practically raised on
Grosse Pointe Blank
.”
    His smile widened and I caught a white flash of teeth. “I’m not talking about a movie.”
    That
did the trick. I didn’t say another word as he maneuvered skillfully through traffic and headed toward upstate New York. I was no longer sure I was much safer sitting in that car than I had been in that stupid coffee shop, but short of yanking open the door and taking a flying leap I wasn’t going to be making a getaway.
    Watching the scenery change outside the window was my only distraction, so I rolled down the window to feel the wind rush across the back of my hand as we merged onto the Bronx River Parkway. I tried not to be creeped out by the way the bare branches of trees loomed overhead with their lengthening shadows.
    “Nearly there,” the driver-who-might-also-be-a-murderer said needlessly. I knew we weren’t far from Emptor Academy. I’d been distracted by Audrey the night of Sebastian’s party, but I still recognized the enormous metal gates. Funny how being fingerprinted at a security checkpoint tends to stay with a girl.
    “Are you ever scared?” I blurted out in what must have sounded like a crazy non sequitur.
    “Of Emptor Academy? No.”
    “No, I meant . . .” I couldn’t find the right words so I decided to wing it. “You’re obviously strong and, y’know, tough. No one-liners required. So I was just wondering if anything scares you.”
    He didn’t reply immediately, but he didn’t seem annoyed with me for asking. His silence felt thoughtful, as if he had no intention of giving a statement that he didn’t fully support. As if anything he said should be worth repeating at his funeral.
    “Fear is a matter of control.”
    That told me nothing. “You seem pretty athletic. Actually, you look like you could bench press a mountain. So is that a no?”
    He smiled as he pulled up to the gatehouse. “Only a fool believes that physical strength equals control.”
    “That’s a yes then?”
    “I’ll get back to you on that one.”
    That’s what I got for letting my curiosity get the best of me; a menacing hulk of a man with a well-trimmed goatee now intended to keep me updated on his philosophy of fear.
    “You’re going to be fingerprinted here, Miss Danvers.”
    “Emmy.” I leaned out of the window so that I could do whatever the security guys at the gate needed. “My friends call me Emmy.”
    If he wanted to get back to me about, well, anything, really, it meant we were already more than passing acquaintances. That’s the way I saw it anyway.
    He grunted. “My associates call me Force.”
    “Force? As in, force equals mass times acceleration?” I asked, as a guard held out a Slate, indicating where he wanted me to place my fingers.
    “Thumb here,” the stranger ordered. “Now your left hand.”
    “Force as in force,” he said calmly as I pressed my fingers against the smooth cool surface of the Slate. The machine beeped and I braced myself for an interrogation.
    “It appears you’re already in our system, Miss Danvers. You came here a few months ago with a guest pass.”
    I wouldn’t have been surprised to