Page 37 of Power of the Mind
The kid seemed unaffected and stared back challengingly.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Assessing.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s up to something but hasn’t decided if we’re a threat. He figures we have authority of some kind, but—”
“It’s the snazzy outfits. See, I told you. They work wonders.”
“But the Jeep’s not a cop vehicle, and we aren’t in uniform.”
“Can we mess with him?”
“No.”
“Please. It will be fun. Let me have some fun.”
“No.” Breaking eye contact with the boy behind the wheel, Diem faced Dr. Hilty’s building. “He doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
“Aww, D. Don’t be a spoilsport. Play snarly detective with me.”
“No.”
“But you miss being a cop. I can tell.”
Diem worked his jaw. “I don’t.”
“Liar.”
Diem started toward the front entrance of Hilty’s building. “Are we doing this, or can I go home and change?”
“Do not walk away from me, Diem.” When he glanced back, appearing ready to assert his opinion, I plastered on a grin full of mischief and mayhem. The one he had trouble resisting. “Five minutes of fun.”
Without waiting for him to agree, knowing Diem would follow my lead—no matter how begrudgingly—I lifted my chin, put on a mask of determination and cop-like severity, and marched toward the kid’s car.
The tail end of a suppressed growl caught my ear, but Diem was hot on my heels like I knew he would be.
The man-child behind the wheel didn’t panic like his friends. With the window down, the engine running, and music pulsing, he sat calm as you please and waited. A cloud of burning oil and exhaust fumes tickled my throat as I tilted my head to look in the window.
“What?” the kid snapped.
“Want to turn down the music.” I phrased it so it wasn’t exactly a request but a demand.
The kid hesitated but complied, still staring challengingly.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Nothing.” The kid was a rough-looking twenty if I had to guess. Beady black eyes, greasy hair poking out from under a ballcap with a pot logo of some kind, and cringy tattoos down both arms. He wore a black bowling shirt and slacks, an emblem on the pocket I couldn’t make out.
“How come you’re hanging in a parking lot?”
“It’s a free country.”
“Are you doing something you shouldn’t be doing?”
“No. Unless listening to music is a crime.”