Break R2 Part 2

"…wait. Go through that again, I'm obviously not getting it."

Miranda sighed, frustrated. "Ollie, I know it sounds cracked, but –"

"You're saying that the papers aren't writing enough about people dying or getting injured or disappearing, and that it's not because they want to prevent panic but as part of some conspiracy." The policeman sounded tired.

She was too angry to care. "No," she said tightly, trying and failing to keep her voice even. "I'm saying that the papers are understating the deaths, injuries, and disappearances until it's like they don't matter. The mentions of the disappearances themselves are tapering out, though there's been nothing in three months of newspapers about anyone being found. And listen to this: 'Police Silent on Evidence Seized in Most Recent Disappearance'. What –"

Ollie broke in, anger now lacing his words, too. "No. Miranda, I know your husband's still missing and you're stressed and looking for any possible leads, but believe me when I say that the police are the good guys here. We're the one's working to get everyone found, okay? Don't go chasing shadows."

His choice of words sent a shiver through Miranda. "The police never talked to me," she said more-or-less levelly, changing tack in an effort to get away from mention of shadows. "I was shot. Wasn't someone supposed to talk to me about that?"

"Sounds like an oversight," said Ollie. His voice had gone cold enough to send another shiver through her.

As if it knew how much she wanted to hang up, the phone in Miranda's hand gave a low beep. "Ollie, listen – I'm sorry. I'm just… it's what you said, I'm stressed and chasing after any thread I can get my hands on."

He sighed. "We'll get him back."

"Thanks," Miranda said faintly. "I'll talk to you later."

She hung up gratefully and sighed at the still-beeping Call Waiting. After the conversation she'd just had, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to more people. She's returning my call, she told herself sternly, quashing the desire to let it go to voice mail, and picked up the call.

"I got your message," said Diane without preamble, and Miranda sighed again. She didn't sound entirely pleased to have gotten it. "What are you talking about, asking me to stay over? You hired me to find your husband – which I'm still working on, by the way. You're not paying me to be your guard dog, and certainly not to hold sleepovers with."

"Among all of the conflicting information I've seen online, one of the few things people seem to agree on is that being alone is a bad idea. I only said that if you aren't living with anyone, I'd open my apartment to you." Diane made no effort to muffle her snort, and Miranda frowned. "There's strength in numbers. I'm basically alone, too, if you remember – I don't think a three year old boy counts for much in the 'don't be on your own' warning."

"Listen," Diane said, the word clipped. "It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but it's a bit extreme, don't you think? We met less than two weeks ago."

Miranda massaged a temple, her own voice sharper than she would have liked. "Fine, okay, I'm sorry to be overreacting. I just can't get the image of that… thing reaching out to touch her." The shadow and the third eye, and the two men shooting into a crowd but aiming for me…

There was a pause before Diane responded. "You know, I don't think any of us are really safe anymore, no matter what we do." Miranda, chilled by the detective's tone, laughed drily. "Yeah, I know it's old news to you. Just… calm down a little, alright? I'll think about your offer."

That was about as good a response as she'd hoped to get. "Okay. Let me know – and take care."

"Yeah, you too. Talk to you later." Miranda could almost see her shrug as the other woman hung up.

She hoped that Diane changed her mind. Whatever the cost in privacy, safety could be gotten from the addition of her presence in the house. Strength in numbers, pooling of resources, another pair of eyes and ears – any drop in the bucket was worthwhile.

It had to be.

--

The sun was high and bright, and even now, inside and sipping cold water, Miranda was uncomfortably warm. It was the blazer's fault. Even though it light linen, it was one layer too many, and she could feel perspiration gathering on her forehead, under her arms, and at the small of her back.

Across the small café table sat a much more sensible woman. She was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans, and Miranda had already caught her eyeing the blazer with an unreadable expression twice. There didn't seem to be anything actually negative in her face either time, but it was enough to make her self-conscious.

Wearing it had been a conscious choice, and not one, she told herself firmly, that some sweat or odd looks would make her regret. Regular shirts did nothing to conceal her bandaged shoulder, and while she was by no means ashamed of her wound, she wasn't about to flaunt it: it felt too much like it would be tempting fate.

She glanced out the window at the thought, biting her lip. It wasn't quite a peaceful scene – nothing with that much bustle could be called such – but the crowds were good-natured and the sun was shining. It should have been a comforting sight, a sign of normalcy and of life going on.

Instead, Miranda's breathing shortened as she remembered a similar place on a similar day. That street had felt safe and comforting, too, right up until possessed private investigators started shooting.

Her eyes flicked through the street nervously. Who was to say that any one of those strangers wasn't going to pull out a gun?

You know, I don't think any of us are really safe anymore.

"You know, I thought I was the only one getting paranoid."

Miranda started and jerked back to the present, flinching as her shoulder protested. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling her cheeks warm. "Things have been… difficult lately."

This wasn't at all how Miranda had imagined things going when she'd asked around in the community for a place she might go to for some research. Everyone seemed to be at something of a loss, but one online contact had mentioned A Likely Story, and any possible lead was worth following up on.

The woman who'd answered the phone had certainly seemed promising. For one, she hadn't hung up on her. She had, instead, identified herself as Liz, and asked if they could meet at a café.

And at the moment, she was smiling drily. "I can tell."

It was to trade information. Both of them needed to find out more than they knew; it made sense. It still made Miranda uncomfortable to talk to a stranger about her missing husband, about getting shot. Even getting information in return was no comfort: they were talking about shadows. The bright sun seemed to dim even though they spoke vaguely, and Miranda in her blazer had to suppress more than one shiver.

It was a relief to hear her cell phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Miranda, it's Cindy at daycare. I wanted to know if you could possibly pick Avery up early? One of the teachers called in sick, and Jessalyn just sprained her ankle during playtime, and we're down to two teachers and almost thirty kids…"

"That's fine," said Miranda, and for some reason it really was. She had an appointment at the newspaper she'd have to bring him to, and they'd be discussing things that she didn't want him to hear, but the thought of seeing his face again, three hours earlier than she normally would, warmed her. She hung up, wondering how long it was before she broke down and stopped bringing Avery to daycare altogether, and turned back to her companion.

"I'm sorry. Thank you so much for meeting with me, but I've got to go and pick my son up from daycare…"

Liz shrugged. "Alright. Let me know if you find anything new, okay? Just give me a call, or swing by A Likely Story. Same goes for if you need help: I'll do what I can."

Miranda stood. "Thank you," she said, real gratitude in her voice. "I appreciate that."

The sun was high and bright, and as she stepped outside, she turned her face to it. But for the warmth that seeped into her skin, something knotted in her gut remained untouched, and in her blazer, in the sunlight, Miranda shivered.