His eyes flashed to mine and then back down again. “Nope.”
So he was going to be difficult. “Do you know anyone who does?”
“I only sell what I’m given. I don’t ask questions.”
“No questions? That’s not very smart. Didn’t think you were such a brainless follower, but I guess I was wrong.”
His eyes revealed only mild humor, not the anger I was hoping my comment would inspire. Anger was so much more telling. “I know what I need to know, and the rest is none of my business and definitely not any of yours.”
“Who’s your supplier?”
“Confidential.”
“I’m not trying to take over your business, Connor. I just need information.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place.” His hand hovered on the lid of the open case. “Now, did you need anything else?”
I had done this all wrong. He obviously had information, and I’d put him on the defensive. I lifted my hand ever so slightly and concentrated hard. Ten minutes. That’s all I’d take back, and then I’d try again. I’d be sweeter this time or more flirty. Act innocent, not demanding. I searched for the paths in his mind that I needed to block. His mind felt stiff. Usually I had no trouble quickly blocking the few active paths where I could feel the short-term memories had been stored. But as I tried to perform that task on him, the energy in them didn’t die. It only waned slightly and then sprang back to life.
He tilted his head. “Is that a no?”
I tried not to visually react to my failure, even though I wanted to demand how he’d done that. I hid my shock by studying the items in his case. “What are those?” On a raised portion, a variety of different metal devices were displayed. On closer inspection, I saw one even looked like a fly.
“Way out of your price range.”
“But . . . are they listening devices?”
He pointed to the row of winged bugs. “These are listening devices. This row is tracking devices.”
“They look so real.”
He slammed the case shut. I tried a memory wipe one more time, but it didn’t work. Tucking the chip into my pocket, I left his garage. What was wrong with me? Was I losing my ability? No. That was impossible. He must’ve been using something that protected him from Memory Erasers. Did he know that was my ability?
I’d get information from him. I’d just have to find another way.
CHAPTER 7
Addie: Must reread the Compound secrecy agreement.
I was under the table, because it was the only quiet corner of the bookstore. I found three books right away that I wanted, but apparently my dad was a browser. My dad was right—the bookstore was amazing, and normally my dad’s browsing wouldn’t have been a bad thing. I would’ve explored every corner of the place. But today was kids’ day or something, because a million kids who didn’t know how to use indoor voices had taken over the store. So with my purse as a pillow, I started reading a graphic novel under a table.
“What are you doing?”
I lowered the book to see a little boy staring at me between the slats of a wooden chair. “I’m reading.”
“That’s a boy book.”
“A boy book? It is not.”
“Is too.”
“Says who?” Why was I arguing back?
“It’s about shooting. Girls don’t like shooting books.”
“Well, I do, and I’m pretty sure I’m a girl.” I pointed to the book he held. “What do you have?”
Apparently thinking that was an invitation to join me, he pulled out the chair and plopped on the floor in its place, then held up the book. Spaceships. “I’m learning to draw. My brother is teaching me.”
At least he was a kid with good taste and seemed to be able to talk at a normal volume. “That’s cool.”
He offered it to me. I took it and flipped through a few pages, which illustrated steps to drawing different spaceships.
“This one kind of looks like the Millennium Falcon, don’t you think?”
He squinted at the picture. “Yeah, but the Millennium Falcon has a dish thing on top.”
“True, but you could always add that.”
I shut his book and handed it back. “Have fun drawing. Those are going to be cool.”
“Girls shouldn’t know what the Millennium Falcon is either.” I could tell he was trying to be funny. I looked at him closer. He couldn’t have been much older than eight.
“Who are you hiding from?” he asked.
“Nobody . . . everybody. I just wanted a quiet place to read.” I glanced around. “What about you? I bet your mom is looking for you.”
“My mom’s not here. She’s at work. I’m here with my brother. He brings me to story time every week.”
“That’s nice of him. So, don’t you think he’s worried about you?”
He looked up as if considering this and then furrowed his brow. “Ew, there’s gum under here.”
“Come on, I’m going to help you find your brother, okay?” This place was huge, and I could imagine his brother frantically looking for him in the mob scene. Plus, I obviously wasn’t getting any reading done. I slid out from under the table and tucked my books under one arm.
“What does he look like?”
“Who?”
“Darth Vader.”
“Huh?”