things.<\/em><\/p>\nEmily liked things too. She just didn\u2019t have the money to buy many things. So she made careful investments with the money she made at the seamstress shop only a mile away from her home. She didn\u2019t have a driver\u2019s license because people like Special Agent Thompson would be able to track her more easily.<\/p>\n
He tapped the picture on the coffee table between them with a manicured forefinger and smiled warmly, but the coldness in his green eyes remained. Those eyes reminded Emily of snakes, or the glass eyes she\u2019d seen in her grandfather\u2019s taxidermist shop. Those eyes didn\u2019t really have any life to them.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe you should look again.\u201d His voice was neutral and carried no threat. He was careful about that. All of these agents were. They were very deceitful and they thought they were so much smarter than she was. They were never dangerous till they wanted to be.<\/p>\n
Emily sat very primly on the edge of the easy chair she had purchased only last week. The chair didn\u2019t match the couch, but it was comfortable. At the time she\u2019d bought the couch, the thrift store had had a matching chair for sale. Unfortunately, she hadn\u2019t had the money for both, and she\u2019d needed a more comfortable place to sleep than the floor. She\u2019d later purchased a child\u2019s bed, but if the chair had still remained there, she probably would have bought the chair before the bed. If she had and her mother had found out, her mother would have badgered her about being nonsensical. Still, not being able to buy the matching chair had left her feeling so disconsolate that she hadn\u2019t found a chair she\u2019d come close to liking for months.<\/p>\n
Dutifully, Emily leaned forward and looked at the picture with feigned interest. She was more aware of the way the coffee table cover hung slightly askew, thanks to Thompson\u2019s aggressive finger, but at least the scars and the bad words someone had written in permanent marker remained covered. She hadn\u2019t been able to clean those off.<\/p>\n
The man in the picture was perhaps twenty years or more older than Special Agent Thompson. Emily had decided that the agent was only a handful of years older than her, which put him around thirty. The man in the picture had gray hair and a bulldog face, but his hair had been more gray and he\u2019d looked fatigued the day Emily had finally spoken with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Emily shook her head and pulled at her skirt, making certain that it never rose above her knees. She wore tennis shoes and knee-high stockings, sensical clothing that her mother would have approved of.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see, that\u2019s strange.\u201d Thompson talked slowly, like he was speaking to a child or a backward person. \u201cSpecial Agent McReady filed a report that he was going to meet with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe never did.\u201d Emily met his gaze guilelessly and kept her heart rate under control. \u201cAre you sure you wouldn\u2019t like tea? It would be no problem at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Miss Smith, I wouldn\u2019t like any tea.\u201d Thompson scowled and leaned back so that his coat fell away from the big pistol holstered at his hip.<\/p>\n
Emily sat there and wished she had something to do with her hands. But she didn\u2019t, so she just clasped them on her lap. McReady hadn\u2019t wanted any tea either. She did hope that this present situation didn\u2019t go the way the one with McReady had.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long have you lived in Chicago, Miss Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you prove that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily couldn\u2019t. She kept her face calm. There was a way out. There was always a way out. She had learned that. \u201cDo I have to?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI would like very much for you to. I checked with the building super. You\u2019ve only lived here for fourteen months.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHas it really been that long?\u201d That surprised Emily. She hadn\u2019t known she had stayed so long. Usually she didn\u2019t stay in one place much more than six months. She had been more comfortable in Chicago than she had in San Francisco or Boston or Atlanta, though she had liked the weather in San Francisco a lot more. She\u2019d stayed there too long as well.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou moved in here a year ago, April, Miss Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cChicago is a nice place to live. Except for the winters. The winters are very harsh.\u201d Back home in Alabama, winters had been gentle things, a placeholder, really, between fall and spring.<\/p>\n
Thompson frowned. \u201cYou have a bit of a Southern accent, Miss Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI doubt that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you do. I\u2019ve been told I have a very good ear for such things, and you\u2019ve covered yours up very well.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe what you hear is a bit of an accent I picked up from the other young women I work with.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe other young women you work with are Chinese, Miss Smith. I know that because I checked with your employer, Mr. Grimaldi.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRuth Batson isn\u2019t Chinese. She\u2019s from Atlanta, Georgia, I believe.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson nodded. \u201cYou\u2019re right. I talked with her too. Do you know what she said?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily waited, knowing it couldn\u2019t be good. These government men were a lot like the Treasury men her grandpa had always cursed about when he was roaring drunk.<\/p>\n
\u201cMrs. Batson said she thought you were from somewhere down south too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, she is mistaken.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson looked around the small living room and at the collection of watercolor landscapes Emily had hung. None of the pictures were real, of course, because she couldn\u2019t afford anything like that. She\u2019d cut them from magazines and framed them after seeing a television show about framing.<\/p>\n
He returned his gaze to her. \u201cDo you have a high school yearbook, Miss Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s unusual. Most of the women I know have copies of their high school yearbooks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve had a bit of bad luck hanging onto things over the years.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson smiled. \u201cI don\u2019t think high school was that far away for you, Miss Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily flushed because the man was deliberately flirting with her. She had never been comfortable with being treated like that.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about pictures?\u201d Thompson seemed like he was eager to be pleased, that anything would satisfy whatever questions he had.<\/p>\n
\u201cPictures?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d Thompson shrugged. \u201cPictures of you and your family. Of you when you were younger. I know people who either have shoeboxes of pictures or they\u2019ve filled up Facebook accounts with them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t have any pictures either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFacebook?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. I don\u2019t have a computer. They\u2019re too expensive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a shame. You\u2019re very photogenic.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily flushed again.<\/p>\n
Thompson shifted on the couch and leaned forward. \u201cThat\u2019s how McReady found you, you know. Through pictures.\u201d<\/p>\n
McReady had told her that too, but he had caught up with her at the diner on the corner, by the apartment building. Once a week Emily splurged and bought a chicken-fried steak dinner there to reward herself after six days of backbreaking labor over a sewing machine. He had threatened to handcuff her then and there if she hadn\u2019t come with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know Mr. McReady.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think you did, Miss Smith, and I think that you did something to him that made him step out in front of a produce delivery truck.\u201d<\/p>\n
In spite of her effort not to react, the memory of the man getting hit by the truck \u2013 THUD! \u2013<\/em> caused Emily to draw in her breath sharply and close her eyes. When she opened them again, Thompson was smiling.<\/p>\n\u201cThat truck killed Agent McReady stone dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m very sorry to hear that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAgent McReady wasn\u2019t a friend, but he was a competent agent. The agency I work for doesn\u2019t like to lose its people.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s very commendable. In this economy, I don\u2019t think many employers care about their employees.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy agency cares. That\u2019s why they sent me to follow up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t understand, and I must point out that it\u2019s getting quite late.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSix o\u2019clock isn\u2019t late, Miss Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is when you start your day at four o\u2019clock and work till five.\u201d Emily hoped the man would leave. Once he did, she would pack and go as she always did. Within hours, it would be like she had never lived in the apartment. She would miss the couch, though.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy apologies, but this won\u2019t take much longer, Miss Smith.\u201d Thompson reached into his briefcase and took out another 8×10. \u201cI was serious when I said you were photogenic.\u201d He laid the photograph on top of the picture of the dead man. \u201cSee? This is you.\u201d He tapped the photograph.<\/p>\n
The picture showed a small group standing in front of a burning apartment building in San Francisco. The Victorian windows were quite distinctive.<\/p>\n
Also quite distinctive, Emily stood in the group. Only one other adult, a woman, was there. The other seven people were all children. The children hung onto the two women fearfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy agency trains its employees to look for stories like this, Miss Smith. Did you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily did know that, and she grew very afraid. She also noticed that Thompson\u2019s hand wasn\u2019t very far from his pistol now. She knew he would have no hesitation about shooting her, but that wasn\u2019t what scared her the most. The thing that truly frightened her was what Thompson\u2019s agency did with someone like her. In their view of the world, people like her were for them or against them. Neutrality didn\u2019t exist.<\/p>\n
\u201cOn the surface, this is one of those stories news people throw out there to make everybody feel good. A young woman \u2013 you, for instance \u2013 goes into a burning building and alerts a woman running a home daycare of the danger.\u201d Thompson paused. \u201cIt\u2019s a good story, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily remained silent. There was nothing she could say and she knew it. She was sitting quietly in a trap and waiting for Agent Thompson to close it. More than anything, she hated feeling trapped.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe television news people thought it was a good story. They ran it and the print media picked it up. But do you know what everyone seemed to forget?\u201d<\/p>\n
Refusing to be baited, Emily didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe daycare owner? Mrs. Abigail Schwartz? She told everyone that this young woman, who was identified as Miss Jane Jones, entered the building before<\/em> the water heater blew up and told her the children were in danger. What do you think of that?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI would say that everyone in that picture was lucky that young woman \u2013 whomever she may be \u2013 was passing by in time to warn them, Agent Thompson.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut how did she know? How did she know that water heater was going to blow?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe could go with the obvious possibility. That she did something to the water heater that made it blow up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silently, Emily screamed. When she\u2019d been a child and given warnings to other people, they had accused her of causing \u201caccidents\u201d just so she could claim credit for trying to help. Those incidents and the accusations had made her childhood miserable. Later, when people began to believe she could see things, they grew afraid of her, all of them wanting to know the answer to the one question most were afraid to ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf she did that \u2013 \u201d Thompson stopped himself. \u201cIf you<\/em> did that, Miss Smith, my agency wouldn\u2019t be interested in you at all. But we don\u2019t think you did that. We believe that you somehow sensed that water heater was going to blow up and you got there just in time to keep those children from being killed. I think that was a very brave and wonderful thing.\u201d<\/p>\nEmily sat in the quiet of the apartment that had been her home but now no longer was. She wanted to weep, but she knew it wasn\u2019t worth the effort. She just wanted to be able to get out of the apartment alive now. Alive and free.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy agency, Miss Smith, seeks out people with gifts like yours. We pay them to work for us, to see little bits of the future and help us tilt the odds in favor of this country.\u201d Thompson looked at her with bright interest. \u201cYou do love this country, don\u2019t you, Miss Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, I do.\u201d Emily knew her voice shook with sorrow and pain and frustration. \u201cBut I do not like your agency at all. I\u2019ve seen what they do to people who have these gifts<\/em> you\u2019re talking about. They imprison them. They put them in compounds and make them work at seeing things until they die. Or until they kill themselves because the things they see are horrible and they just won\u2019t stop coming.\u201d<\/p>\nThompson dropped his hand onto the butt of his pistol.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s one thing, Agent Thompson, to flash on something horrible, to see it unexpectedly and then try to do something to stop it, but it\u2019s another to sit and gaze out into the world at all the atrocities that take place everywhere at all times. Do you know what it\u2019s like to get a vision of a small child perishing in a fire?\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you can go to that child, save him or her, the horror isn\u2019t the same. It\u2019s not real any more. But suppose you can\u2019t save the child? Because you don\u2019t know where he or she is, or no one believes you and they don\u2019t do anything to save him or her? Can you even contemplate how horrible that is?\u201d Emily knew her Southern accent was in her words now, but she didn\u2019t care. \u201cI don\u2019t have a television because I don\u2019t want to see people I know bad things are going to happen to. I don\u2019t read newspapers or magazines for the same reason. If I\u2019m not careful, my life is one nightmare after another. Did you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n
With one hand on his pistol, Thompson pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind his back. \u201cI\u2019m going to need you to come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily ignored him, no longer able to hold back her anger. \u201cYou see, you don\u2019t know what it\u2019s like. But I\u2019m going to show you. In less than a minute, Mrs. Ferguson from down the hall is going to knock on my door and ask for a cup of sugar and two eggs because there was a traffic accident today and she didn\u2019t get to stop at the store. You\u2019re going to get a text message on your phone from your superior telling you that Agent McReady had had inoperable cancer, which is what I told him the day he tried to arrest me. And out in the street a car is going to lose control because the brakes fail and it\u2019s going to run into the building.\u201d She took a breath. \u201cAnd that\u2019s only a taste of what I go through every day.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson stood up with his gun drawn and a hard look on his face. \u201cYou\u2019re coming with me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.\u201d<\/p>\n
Someone knocked on the door. \u201cMary? It\u2019s Tanya Ferguson. From down the hall? Mary?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf I don\u2019t answer the door, she\u2019ll call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson waved the pistol. \u201cAnswer the door. If you try to run, I\u2019ll take you down and cuff you. I won\u2019t be gentle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily got up and went to the door.<\/p>\n
Mrs. Ferguson was in her forties and always stressed. Her red hair teased and sprawling now, she looked flustered. \u201cI hate to do this, but could I borrow a cup of sugar and two eggs? I was going to stop on my way home, but there was a traffic accident near the store today and I thought maybe I had enough for dinner tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course. Let me get them for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mrs. Ferguson stepped into the living room and nodded pleasantly to Agent Thompson. \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine. Thank you.\u201d Thompson stood with the pistol and handcuffs behind his back. He smiled confidently, certain he was in control of everything. Emily lived on the fourth floor and he had every reason to feel confident she couldn\u2019t escape.<\/p>\n
Emily returned with the sugar and the eggs and told Mrs. Ferguson she was welcome when the woman thanked her for them. Then she closed the door and faced Thompson.<\/p>\n
His cell phone buzzed for attention. Slowly, he pocketed the handcuffs and reached for his phone. Emily thought it was quite telling that he\u2019d decided to keep the gun instead of a means to restrain her.<\/p>\n
He looked at his phone, then looked at her. \u201cMcReady had a brain tumor. It was inoperable. He was a walking time bomb.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe would have died Tuesday if he hadn\u2019t stepped in front of that produce truck. All he would have managed to do by going to the doctor was confirm the news and run up a huge medical bill to leave his wife and kids.\u201d Emily shrugged. \u201cYou see, sometimes the future can be altered. Just like that day when I warned Mrs. Schwartz about the water heater that was about to explode. But it doesn\u2019t always change. That\u2019s when I truly hate seeing things.\u201d<\/p>\n
A loud crash sounded outside. Horns started honking and people started yelling.<\/p>\n
\u201cConstance Gillicutty, age thirty-two, just lost control of her vehicle while talking on the phone to her cheating boyfriend.\u201d Emily smiled sadly. \u201cOf course, Constance \u2013 Connie to her friends \u2013 doesn\u2019t know for a fact that Eduardo is cheating on her. But I do. And I know that he\u2019s cheating on her with her best friend.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson stood there.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow you\u2019re going to let me walk out of here and tell your bosses at the Agency that you just missed me. They\u2019ll think it was because I saw you coming before you got here.\u201d Emily smiled a little at that. Having the agency think she could do that, on a regular basis, might convince them to give up chasing her. That would be nice. It was frustrating that she didn\u2019t know that, but no one knew everything. Not even her. Like now, she didn\u2019t know how this confrontation was going to turn out.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going to do that.\u201d Thompson took the cuffs back out of his pocket.<\/p>\n
\u201cAgent Thompson, your real name is Michael Bowers. You grew up in Dallas, Texas. You\u2019re twenty-eight years old, engaged, and are the second son of four boys. Your father is a welder. Your mother is a schoolteacher. Third grade, with a reading specialization.\u201d Emily paused. \u201cAnd you\u2019re going to die in the month of August.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man paled slightly at that.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you don\u2019t let me go, I\u2019m going to tell you what year you\u2019re going to die, and you can live with that hanging over your head until it happens.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re lying.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want to go down and ask Connie for her driver\u2019s license to find out? She doesn\u2019t actually have one. She has her sister Carman\u2019s. But she has a library card in her name. That should be enough proof for you, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said the future can be changed. I don\u2019t have to die in August.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you know how to stop an accident, true. But what if it\u2019s a medical issue? Like with Agent McReady? Do you really want to know the time of your death?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you take me in to your agency, I won\u2019t have a life anymore. I\u2019ll be a prisoner. I\u2019ve already given up my family because of the way I am, and I can\u2019t ever let anyone close to me because I know how that person’s life will work out. Do you know how horrible that is? To know so much and to be so alone?\u201d Emily shook her head because she knew he had no clue. \u201cStill, it\u2019s better to know it and be alone than to be locked up somewhere in a government institution. I\u2019ll take what I can get. I\u2019ve already learned that life isn\u2019t always very kind.\u201d<\/p>\n
A police siren sounded out in the street.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what will it be, Agent Thompson?\u201d<\/p>\n
His left eye spasmed. \u201cYou could still be lying. You said yourself that you don\u2019t know everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to die on August 24th at 10:38 a.m.\u201d Emily paused. \u201cDo you really want to know the year?\u201d<\/p>\n
Thompson lowered his pistol, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall. \u201cGet out of here.\u201d He took a breath, then turned, got the pictures and the briefcase, and left her home.<\/p>\n
Emily went straight to her closet and got her traveling bag, the suitcase she always kept packed so she could leave at a moment\u2019s notice. She took out the letter she\u2019d already prepared to leave for the building super explaining that she had a family emergency and had to leave, to please keep the deposit, and thanking him for all his kindness.<\/p>\n
She locked her door behind her for the last time and breathed a little easier when she saw that Thompson really was gone. She hadn\u2019t seen his future, any of it, but the man hadn\u2019t known that. Still, she felt bad for him because she had taken away every August 24th for the rest of his life, and at 10:38 on each of those days he was going to feel \u2013 literally \u2013 like he was going to die.<\/p>\n
That was better than losing her own life, though.<\/p>\n
Before she left for the bus station, she walked down three doors and knocked.<\/p>\n
Debbie Gruner answered, looking frazzled. She was in her late thirties, a mom with two pre-teens, who for three years had been taking care of her invalid husband who\u2019d had a stroke and become paralyzed from the waist down and on one side. She had peroxide blond hair and a good figure that she liked to flaunt. None of them deserved to have the hard lives they were having. It was just how the world worked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need to stay home tomorrow night, Mrs. Gruner.\u201d Emily spoke politely.<\/p>\n
The woman turned angry at once. \u201cWho are you to be telling me what to do?\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily didn\u2019t let the woman\u2019s anger touch her. \u201cYour husband needs you tomorrow. Your boyfriend can wait.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mrs. Gruner stepped out of the apartment and pulled the door shut behind her. The sound of her children\u2019s voices and Spongebob Squarepants became muted. \u201cDon\u2019t come down here and start something with me. I don\u2019t even know who you are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTomorrow night your husband is going to have another stroke. If you\u2019re here, you can call 911 in time to save him. If you\u2019re not, your two boys won\u2019t know what to do and they\u2019ll watch their father die while you\u2019re out with your lover.\u201d Emily had planned to be there in time to help. That wasn\u2019t possible now.<\/p>\n
Mrs. Gruner stared at her. \u201cAre you some kind of crazy woman? Get the hell out of my face!\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily turned and went. She didn\u2019t know how tomorrow night would turn out, but she\u2019d done everything she could do. That was how it was sometimes.<\/p>\n
When she got a quiet life back, without anyone interfering with her, and with hard work to keep her focused on things her hands did, she\u2019d see very little. She hoped to find that again soon.<\/p>\n
Copyright \u00a9 2012 by Mel Odom
\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/blackline1-300x7.jpg\" "\\"blackline\\"")
<\/h5>\n
\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/PurchaseButton.png\" "\\"PurchaseButton\\"") <\/a><\/td>\n | ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/SubsBuyButton.png\" "\\"SubsBuyButton\\"") <\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n[hana-code-insert name=’ArticleBlockOpen’ \/]<\/p>\n ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/01\/MelOdom-150x150.jpg\" "\\"MelOdom\\"") <\/em><\/p>\nMel Odom<\/em> lives in Oklahoma and writes in several genres, including science fiction, horror, suspense, fantasy, and several tie-in novels that include Buffy the Vampire Slayer<\/em> and Sabrina the Teenage Witch<\/em>, as well as movie novelizations of xXx, Blade<\/em>, and others.\u00a0He\u2019s a contributor to the Rogue Angel<\/em>, Rancho Diablo<\/em>, Fight Card<\/em>, and other series.\u00a0He teaches professional writing at the University of Oklahoma, and blogs at www.melodom.blogspot.com<\/a>.<\/p>\nHe is also a reviewer of books, movies and video games.\u00a0You can read his book blog at www.bookhound.wordpress.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n[hana-code-insert name=’ArticleBlockClose’ \/]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Mel Odom
\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/06\/TitleUnderline.jpg\" "\\"TitleUnderline\\"") <\/h3>\n \n\n\n| \n Even before Special Agent Thompson took the 8×10 photograph from inside his sleek briefcase, Emily Cooksey knew she had seen the man previously – eight days ago. \u201cNo.\u201d She told the lie without inflection, without pause, just as she\u2019d told the man her name was Mary Smith. She was good at lying and would be ashamed of it, if it weren\u2019t so necessary in her life.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n | ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/12\/CoverIssue17Kindle-225x300.jpg\" "\\"CoverIssue17Kindle\\"") <\/a>
\nFrom Issue 17 (Dec 2011)<\/span><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n\n| <\/td>\n | <\/a><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[226,178,152,154],"class_list":["post-1779","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-fiction","tag-horror","tag-issue-17","tag-mel-odom"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1779","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1779"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1779\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1781,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1779\/revisions\/1781"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}} | |
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