Agent Locke strolled into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. Clearly she was at home here, even if she lived somewhere else.
Briggs left files for you twoAgent Locke gestured to Michael and Liain his study. Hes going to run a new simulation with Sloane today, and Im going to start catching Cassie up to speed. She heaved a larger-than-life sigh. Its not as glamorous as being a jaded seventeen-year-old boy with parental issues and a hair-gel dependency, but cest la vie.
Michael reached up to scratch the side of his faceand oh-so-subtly flipped Agent Locke off in the process.
Lia twirled her spoon around her finger, a tiny, ice-cream-laden baton. Lacey Locke, everybody, she said, like the FBI agent was a comedian and Lia the announcer.
Locke grinned. Doesnt Judd have a rule about you wearing lingerie in the kitchen? she asked, eyeing Lias pajamas. Lia shrugged, but something about Agent Lockes presence seemed to subdue her. Within minutes, my fellow Naturals had scattered. Neither Lia nor Michael seemed anxious to spend time in the company of an FBI profiler.
I hope theyre not making life too difficult on you, Locke said.
No. In fact, for a moment there, eating with the two of them, talking to them, had felt natural.
No pun intended.
Neither Michael nor Lia was given much of a choice about joining the program. Locke waited for that to sink in. That tends to put a chip on a persons shoulder.
Theyre not the type to respond well to being strong-armed, I said slowly.
No, Agent Locke replied. They arent. Ive made a lot of mistakes, but that wasnt one of mine. Briggs lacks a certain amount of finesse . Guy never met a square peg he didnt want to pound into a round hole.
That description fit with my impression of Agent Briggs exactly. Agent Locke was speaking my language, but I didnt have time to relish that fact.
Because Dean was standing in the doorway.
Agent Locke saw him and nodded. Right on time.
On time for what? I asked.
Dean answered on Agent Lockes behalf, but unlike the red-haired agent, he wasnt smiling. He wasnt friendly. He didnt want to be thereand unless I was mistaken, he didnt like me.
For your first lesson.
CHAPTER 11
Youre driving.
Most FBI agents wouldnt have insisted a seventeen-year-old boy drivebut it was becoming increasingly clear to me that Lacey Locke wasnt most agents. She took the front passenger seat, and I slid into the back.
Where to? Dean asked Agent Locke as he backed out of the driveway. She gave him an address, and he murmured a reply. I tried to diagnose the slight twinge of an accent I heard in his voice.
Southern .
He didnt say a single word for the rest of the drive. I tried to get a read on him. He didnt seem shy. Maybe he was the type of person who saved his words for those rare occasions when he really had something to say. Maybe he kept to himself and used silence as a way of keeping other people at arms length.
Or maybe he just had zero desire to converse with Locke and me.
Hes a Natural profiler , I thought, wondering if his brain was churning, too, assimilating details about me the way I was assessing him.
He was a careful driver.
His shoulders tensed when someone cut him off.
And when we arrived at our destination, he got out of the car, shut the door, and held the keys out to Agent Lockeall without ever looking at me. I was used to fading into the background, but somehow, coming from Dean, it felt like an insult. Like I wasnt worth profiling, like he didnt have the slightest interest in figuring me out.
Welcome to Westside Mall, Agent Locke
said, snapping me out of it. Im sure this isnt what you were expecting for your first day, Cassie, but I wanted to get a sense of what you can do with normal people before we dive into the abnormal end of the spectrum.
Dean flicked his eyes sideways.
Locke called him on it. Something youd like to add?
Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets. Its just been a long time, he said, since someone asked me to think about normal.
Five minutes later, we had a table in the food court.
The woman in the purple fleece, Agent Locke said. What can you tell me about her, Cassie?
I sat and followed her gaze to the woman in question. Midtwenties. She was wearing running shoes and jeans in addition to the fleece. Either she was sporty and shed thrown on the jeans because she was coming to the mall, or she wasnt, but wanted people to think that she was. I said as much out loud.
What else can you tell me? Agent Locke asked.
My gut told me that Agent Locke didnt want details. She wanted the big picture.
Behavior. Personality. Environment .
I tried to integrate Purple Fleece into her surroundings. Shed chosen a seat near the edge of the food court, even though there were plenty of tables available closer to the restaurant where shed purchased her meal. There were several people sitting near her, but she stayed focused on her food.
Shes a student, I said finally. Graduate school of some kindmy moneys on med school. Shes not married, but has a serious boyfriend. She comes from an upper-middle-class family, heavy emphasis on the upper . Shes a runner, but not a health nut. She most likely gets up early, likes doing things that other people find painful, and if she has any siblings, theyre either younger than she is or theyre all boys.