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“Anything you want me to look for besides the possession connection?”
“Possession connection. That sounds like a really screwed-up PBS kids’ show.” I grabbed my own computer. “Just that I’m still looking for the thing that kicked Hallie into overdrive. Whatever the genetic stressor was. Maybe keep an eye out for that, too.”
He nodded and dropped his eyes to focus on his computer. “Will do.”
I took the trolley down Saint Charles, even though the walk would’ve helped clear my head. Hallie had said she wanted me to come back today, but if she’d changed her mind, told her father that I’d blown my cover … I’d be screwed. Possibly dead. I had a brief vision of Paul Girard and his gun holster.
I jumped off at my trolley stop and approached the side entrance to the Girard house slowly. No attempts were made on my life, so I checked in with Carl, the head of security, made my way to Hallie’s room, and knocked on her door. It flew open.
“You. You’re here.”
“I’m here.” I scanned the hallway to the right and left of her bedroom door. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No. I just …”
“You thought I wouldn’t come back.”
“It crossed my mind. I wondered if what happened last night freaked you out enough to make you cut and run. If the nice-guy stuff was for real.”
“It is, just like my fear that your dad would be waiting for me at the front door.” I grinned. “Did you reach a verdict on my nice-guy status?”
“Still out.” She tilted her head and paused. “Hung jury.”
I nodded. “If the jury reaches a decision, I’ll be out here. Doing something bodyguardlike.”
The left corner of her mouth tipped up a fraction of an inch. “But you aren’t a fake bodyguard anymore.”
“I am to your dad.”
She grinned.
“You told him? And I’m still breathing?”
“I can be very persuasive.”
I had no doubt about that. “Okay. I guess I’ll just … stand here until you make a decision.”
“I was thinking.” She opened her door wider. “Maybe we need to spend some quality time together.”
I started backing up. “I’m not coming in your room. No need to give your dad more reasons to come after me with a shotgun, even if we are just talking about science.”
“He leans more toward the smaller firearms. Besides, I have an idea.”
“Which is?” I asked cautiously.
“If we’re going to get to know each other—well, what each of us knows about this situation, anyway—how about we play a game of either-or?”
It seemed innocent, but I knew Hallie had a penchant for being tricky, and I liked being alive. “What are the terms of this particular game? Are we talking personal or professional questions?”
“Both.” She gave me the once-over. “I’d like to know who I’m getting in bed with. So to speak.”
God, the girl was wicked. I was probably in trouble. “Fine. Books or movies?”
She raised one eyebrow, surprised that I was willing to dive right in. “Movies.”
“Downloads or CDs?”
“Records,” she answered in a drawn-out voice, like I was an imbecile.
