Orphan X

39 A Noise that Kept Not Coming

Lying on the floating slab in the inky darkness of his bedroom, staring at the void of his ceiling, Evan concentrated, replaying his and Slatcher’s conversation word for word.

You never know who we know. Maybe we’ve got someone in place in your building right now.

Slatcher was trying to psych Evan out, put him on the run where he’d be more visible.

Here he had sundry alarms and weapons, base-jumping parachutes and tactical rappelling rope, reinforced walls and windows. He was safe enough right now.

But Katrin was not.

He pictured how they’d lain together on the futon, his finger tracing the slope of her hip. Those three asymmetrical stars tattooed behind her ear. The kanji strokes on her left shoulder blade. Those spots of blood on the floor of the loft. The promise he’d made: I will find you.

Two feet from his ear, the RoamZone charged on the nightstand. He’d been waiting for the sonar ping to announce Katrin’s location, bracing himself for a noise that kept not coming.

The night suddenly felt colder than it was.

Promise me. Crimson filming his fingertips. Where are you, Evan? The shattered burner phone. The sob tangled in Katrin’s throat. Where are you, Evan?

Where are you?

He threw back the sheets, dressed, and made his way to the Turkish rug. He sat cross-legged, veiled his eyes, and tried to meditate.

For the first time in his life, he could not.