Read Double Cross [2] for Free Online

change. People rarely want to.”
    “Then do we really have a right to change them? Isn’t it a human right to be who you’ve become?”
    “It’s not as if you’re brainwashing these people. You’re rebooting them.”
    “Still—” I pause as the waitress delivers our sodas and chips and salsa.
    He touches my cheek. “Evil is an aberration of nature. You’re rebooting them, restoring them. Righting them. You think a prison is somehow more humane, or moral, where the aberrations only get worse?”
    I take the wrapper off my straw and stick it into my soda.
    “If you went to them after they turned positive and asked which they’d prefer, they’d be grateful for your turning them. The work we’re doing together is helping me keep the streets safe, so children can play in parks, and people can live free, and businesses can feel confident about locating here. Besides, I believe that, deep down, everybody yearns to be good.” He unwraps his straw. “Atany rate, I certainly can’t keep them all imprisoned with my mind, they can’t go to human prisons, and they can’t be freed the way they are. So even if what you’re doing is wrong, which it
isn’t
, sometimes you have to choose.”
    I examine a tortilla chip, considering this.
    “You’re overthinking it,” he adds.
    “And they’re all for sure guilty?”
    He furrows his brow. “Of course.”
    I dip my chip into the salsa.
    “I spoke with the lead Dorks investigator earlier,” he says. “Their latest theory is that all the victims were wearing something blue.”
    “Like the Dorks hate the color blue? That’s why they’re killing people?”
    “Something like that.”
    I crunch my chip disdainfully.
    “What else are the detectives to think?” Otto says. “They don’t know what connects the victims. If somebody trustworthy informed them that the victims are all highcaps—”
    “But somebody trustworthy
can’t
.”
    An hour or so later we step outside into the chilly darkness. Otto’s town car waits at the curb. After the last time we ate here, we walked a few blocks to the West Side Bakery for dessert. This is a perfect moonlit night for a walk, not so cold, though you can still see your breath. But there are the Dorks to think about.
    Otto mentions the idea of a walk to Covian, who peers up and down the sidewalk. Across the street, the mirror windows of a mod 1960s gas company building reflect the moonlight.
    I wait, thinking about something Otto once said, about how disturbing it is to highcaps to have their power thwarted. I could especially see it upsetting Covian. He takes his bodyguard work so seriously.
    “I leave it up to you, old friend,” Otto says. “You’re the guard.”
    Covian stares at the sky for a while. Then he says, “Their pattern’s been every three days, and always nearer the lake.” He looks at Otto. “And they hit once today. It’s not common for serial killers to change patterns.”
    Otto nods.
    “But then, this is a gang of three, which adds unpredictability,” Covian reasons. “Then again, twice in a day? And out here?”
    Otto waits. Otto believes in people. Sometimes when he looks at you, his trust and faith feel like a warm breeze inside. I always think that’s part of why he was elected—people like it when other people believe in them. I know I do.
    “They struck once today,” Covian says. “We’re fine.” Covian goes to the curb to send the car ahead.
    Otto turns to me, brushing a stray hair off my cheek. “A short after-dinner stroll, a cookie, and then home …” The way he says that, my heart drops through my chest.
And then home …
    “Sounds wonderful,” I say.
    “I needed time,” he says, “but I’m back.” He means with me.
    I want to say a million different effusive things, but before I can embarrass myself, he takes my hand and we set off down the block.
    Covian catches up with us; then he drops behind, into shadows, then comes back near. That’s how he guards, walking