Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

thought about his list. I hadn’t realized I’d been present at these crime scenes. I didn’t doubt McKesson, however. Strange events seemed to occur in my vicinity. I couldn’t deny that.
    “I’m not a killer,” I said.
    “I don’t believe you.”
    I frowned. Was I a killer? I supposed I might have pulled a trigger or two in my lifetime. The gun had felt natural in my hand. I knew how to use it, where to place it. The thought was disturbing. Was I one of those guys who woke up happy and forgetful after every psychotic killing?
    “Maybe ignorance truly is bliss,” I said, frowning into my coffee. “But I’m more determined than ever to figure out what the hell is going on in this town. No one seems to know everything, but everyone I meet seems to know morethan I do. And we all have one thing in common: we are all paranoid.”
    McKesson laughed. “You’ve got that right, Draith.”
    “You have a family, Detective?”
    “No. You?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    McKesson nodded. “Let me clue you in there: you’re right. You don’t. I would have been sitting at your momma’s place, if you had one. I mean, what kind of perp comes back to their burned-down house a week later? It was a long shot.”
    “Why didn’t you look for me at the sanatorium?”
    He shook his head and snorted. “No one goes into that place—not if they want to come back out.”
    I didn’t reply to that. I was too busy thinking about Dr. Meng and her odd staff. The halls were quiet, and the rooms were windowless. It was a weird, dangerous place. I didn’t want to go back there, although I knew I might have to.
    “So what else have you got for me?” McKesson asked.
    “You give me more first,” I said, bluffing.
    McKesson shook his head. “No way. I’ve told you too much as it is.” He leaned forward and gave me an intense stare. “But this isn’t over between us. We have a truce right now, tonight, but don’t think that makes us tight. When the time comes, I’ll do what I’ve got to do. Just so we understand each other.”
    I nodded and sipped my coffee calmly.
    “Right,” I said. “I hear you. And just so
you
know, I’m not your typical, terrified perp on the run. I’m in this to find out what the hell happened to me—what the hell is happening to my hometown. And I’ll go right through anyone who gets in my way.”
    McKesson studied me for a second, then leaned back, smiling and checking out the waitresses. He nodded. “The funny thing is, you and I want the same thing.”
    “Wait a second,” I said. “Does that mean you are going to let me dig into this? Without harassment? Like you said, we are on the same mission.”
    McKesson stared at me. “Maybe. For a day or two. That’s all I can do. We all have our masters, you know.”
    I thought about Dr. Meng, and I wondered if he had someone like that behind him—some member of the “Community,” as they liked to call themselves, who pulled his strings.
    I nodded finally. “I understand.”
    “You know what you are, Draith?” he said, looking me in the eye. “You’re what they call a
hound
. A bloodhound who finds things. The Community uses your type, because most of them are stuck in one place in order to hold onto their power. Do you understand any of that?”
    “Yeah,” I said. And I thought that I truly had begun to understand. These people who called themselves a Community had
domains
. Dr. Meng had explained that. She had also indicated I was a fringe member, a minor personage barely worthy of note in this community of important people. I suspected I was looked upon the way celebrities might look upon a lifelong member of the paparazzi. I was a face they’d grown to recognize among what they otherwise considered to be a crowd of gawking vermin.
    “I get it, all right,” I said. “You and I are both hired hands. Meng called me a rogue.”
    “Exactly,” he said.
    “Do rogues work together?”
    “Sometimes—or sometimes we kill each other.”
    “We came close to doing both tonight,” I said. “Who are you working for then?”
    “Myself.”
    I snorted. “Liar.”
    “Do
you
work for Meng?” he demanded.
    I shook my head. “She gave me a hand—sort of. But I’m not her servant.”
    “So, you understand my position then.”
    I looked at him. “OK. You aren’t a power player, but you
are
a player. Is that what you are saying?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So just give me the name, then. Who else wanted Tony murdered? Who is on the top