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kitchen, before saying, “You can grab
a shower here if you need. I put a couple towels in there for
you.”
    “ Sure. Thanks.” Kyra
flicked on the television and found a local news channel. If a body
had been found in the park it should have made the top
stories.
    A newscaster baring a striking resemblance
to a plastic doll debated with a couple of businessmen about stock
market issues. Kyra put the volume on low.
    Zoey dug through her cabinets. “I don’t have
much to eat here. I could make us some eggs or something.
    “ I’m not a big breakfast
person, but thanks.”
    “ Ah, I forgot. Well, I need
to eat something before work.”
    “ I could work your shift
today, Zo. I’m sure everyone would understand if you took a few
days.”
    “ I know they would,” she
replied from inside the fridge, “but I need the money.” She pulled
out a carton of eggs and set them on the counter, then produced a
skillet, shaking it in Kyra’s direction like some sort of
overbearing grandmother. “And don’t even suggest loaning me
anything.”
    Kyra wouldn’t have used the word loan, but
she knew Zoey would be even less likely to take a handout.
    Long lost uncle it
is .
    “ Today’s top stories,” the
woman on the screen chirped. “Could what you’re eating for lunch be
killing you? Find out, tonight at eleven. A preacher, caught
stealing? We’ll tell you his side of the story. And what are your kids really
learning in school? You might be surprised. We’ll be right back
with the top stories after the break.”
    Kyra switched to another news station, only
to find that there was a new pill to balance the effects of some
other antidepressant drug. She gave up on the news and headed
toward the bathroom.
    The water felt nice, relaxing. Zoey’s
shampoo was overly fragrant, but did the job. While she worked it
into her hair, she let her mind drift. It was obvious Zo was very
upset, which was to be expected, but she was holding it inside, and
probably, after today, wouldn’t let it out again. At least not in
front of anyone.
    Cradling emotions was never healthy. Keeping
them caged, locked away, they fester and grow. Mutate. And
somewhere, nestled snugly in the dark backdrop of every mind, was a
seedy black corner where a gnarled troll throws them steroids like
Mardi Gras beads.
    Then, without fail, after there’s no more
space inside, they find a crack in the foundation. Claw their way
out through muscle and bone.
    It was a safe bet, however, that Zo’s
emotions, if left unchecked, wouldn’t cause a minor catastrophe.
Not in the way Kyra’s would.
    When it was Zoey’s turn in the shower, Kyra
once again switched through the news channels, until the stories
started to repeat. Guess no one found a body yet. Or possibly he’d
made it to a hospital before bleeding out. Maybe her shots had been
off. She shuddered at the intruding thought. She had to admit,
she’d been pretty drunk. And it was hard not to consider that she’d
imagined him dropping five stories from her balcony.
    A fall like that should have opened him like
a tomato.
    Still, a whole day had passed, and no
news.
    Okay, she thought. Maybe
this is a good thing. No body meant no authorities. No
investigation. No reason for her to run. Right? Except, if he
wasn’t dead, he might come back. Try again. Worse, find a new
target. She grimaced, remembering the athletic shape of his arms
and the strong build of his shoulders. At least she knew she could deal with him,
but others weren’t blessed with her heightened senses or strength.
If she left now and found that he’d lived to hurt another, the
guilt would follow her for years. At the same time, staying was a
risk.
    She deluded herself into believing she was
actually pondering the decision, the whole time knowing her choice.
It really didn’t take a lot of convincing.
    So, she’d stay and wait it out. Just a
little longer. Keeping an eye on the news, of course, in case
someone stumbled upon a body. That way