The Mirror Man, стр. 45

Chapter 22

Jeremiah had trouble sleeping again that night. For a couple of hours, he tossed and turned in bed but finally gave in sometime after midnight. He found himself in the kitchen rooting around in the fridge for something to eat. He didn’t find a thing that appealed to him. He wasn’t even really hungry. He stood in front of the open door letting his mind wander back to what the priest had said about his mother. There was something quietly satisfying about the way he’d described her, the way he focused on the many small ways her life had been important, the way he made it feel as though that had been enough. And it struck him now that, for her, it always had been enough. Growing up, Jeremiah had often felt sorry for her and had pushed away nagging feelings of guilt that she’d had to spend the best years of her life raising him on her own. He used to wonder what she might have done with her life if she’d ever had the chance. It hadn’t really occurred to him that she’d been perfectly content, that she’d considered it a valuable, good and worthwhile thing simply to know who she was and to be herself.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Brent came in through the front door and straight into the kitchen when he noticed the lights on.

“You’re still up,” he said. “Good.” He put a six-pack of craft beer on the counter.

“You’re taking an awful lot of chances with my diet,” Jeremiah told him, grabbing a beer. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway? We don’t even have a viewing tomorrow. Scott, in his magnanimous kindness, has arranged a day off, remember?”

“You had a rough day,” Brent said. “Thought you might want some company.”

“Brent,” Jeremiah began. He was genuinely moved by the sentiment. “You didn’t have to do that. You have your own life. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Brent shrugged and opened a beer. “No one should be alone after his mother’s funeral,” he said. “Besides, I have a proposition for you.”

“Last time someone said those exact words to me I ended up with a clone,” he said.

“This is a different kind of proposition.”

“I don’t know, Brent. I mean, I like you and all—but I’m a married man, and think of Mel.”

“Keep dreaming, pal. You’re way too old for me.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Brent began, “about your mother, about how she died...your suspicions about Scott.”

“You said I was crazy, as I recall.”

“You probably are,” Brent said. “But you shouldn’t have to deal with those thoughts. Not after everything that’s happened. I think we should go on a little secret mission, see what we can find out. See if we can put your mind at ease.”

“Secret mission?”

“There’s no viewing tomorrow. That means everyone’s got a little time off, right? There’s no one here except for one security guard and he’s probably asleep by now. And I know that because I split a six-pack with him just before I came here.”

“So, this is at least three beers talking, then. What exactly does this secret mission of yours entail?”

“We go into Pike’s office,” Brent said. “Hack into his computer, see what we can find out. There’s bound to be something there that will prove to you that no one is out to get you.”

“Sounds pretty risky to me,” Jeremiah said. “Not your best idea.”

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? You’re the one who thinks there’s all kinds of devious plots going on behind the scenes. Why not be a little devious ourselves? Why not just find out?”

“You think you can really hack into Pike’s files? With half a six-pack in you?”

Brent snickered. “Really?”

“What if we’re caught?” Jeremiah asked. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“We won’t get caught. I know where every security camera is.”

“Just like you knew about the one in Mel’s painting.”

“That’s different. No one has any reason to hide them outside your rooms. Believe me, if we stay close to the walls, right up against them, they probably won’t even pick us up on camera. But this is our only opportunity, Jeremiah. The place is empty. If you want answers, we need to get them now. Tonight. We’re not going to get another chance like this.”

Jeremiah nodded. Brent was right about one thing—he did need some answers. He needed to know what happened to his mother. He needed to know if he was going crazy, if the Meld was messing with his mind. And if there was anything in Pike’s files about Scott’s illness, he thought, Brent might be more inclined to believe this whole thing wasn’t what it appeared to be.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Do we need to put panty hose over our faces or something? Because I’m afraid I’m fresh out.”

Ten minutes later, after having inched their way down the hallway, creeping along against the walls, Jeremiah stood nervously behind Brent in the dim light of Pike’s empty office. Brent had been typing feverishly on Pike’s keyboard without any apparent success.

“Hurry up,” Jeremiah whispered.

“It’s going to take a bit of time. Calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“Then shut up and let me do this.”

“What is it you’re doing?” Jeremiah asked. “Trying to guess his password? How are you even going to do that?”

Brent turned to him with an expression of slight annoyance. “You’ve been watching too many bad spy movies,” he said. “I worked in the IT department, remember? I never changed my access codes. But I have to cover my tracks here, delete the time stamp on my actions. I can get in no problem if you’ll stop breathing on my neck.”

Jeremiah stayed where he was but turned his head a little and strained to listen for anyone coming down the hallway.

“Got it,” Brent said after another