need to find Ben,” he says. “And you’re the only one who can help me.”
“I haven’t seen him, Barclay,” I repeat, and I feel my throat tightening and my eyes burning as I have to admit again that he hasn’t come back.
“I know,” he says. “But you can still help me.”
“I’m not going to talk him into doing anything dangerous, if that’s what this is about,” I say, although from the look on Barclay’s face, I can tell that’s not it. “Besides, what does Ben have to do with a human-trafficking ring, unless …”
Unless he’s missing.
Barclay shakes his head. “It’s complicated. Like I said. This is a big case. Missing persons was never even really on my radar—until a few months ago.”
“And what happened then?”
“The details aren’t important, but I started looking into a standard missing-persons case as a favor to a friend, only it turned out not to be very standard. It’s big, Tenner. A major interverse trafficking ring.”
This all makes sense, but … “I still don’t understand what this has to do with Ben.”
Barclay hesitates. He looks at his hands for a second, and I notice he’s biting the inside of his cheek. I’ve never seen him agitated quite like this.
“Tell me,” I say, even though I’m afraid to hear it.
Then he looks up with pity in his face. “Someone with unique abilities—like the ability to open portals and travel universes at will—would have an easier time getting around the strict interverse travel regulations the IA has in place.”
My mind jumps to the logical conclusion, but it takes my heart a minute to catch up. Because I don’t want to believe that it’s a possibility. “Ben can’t be a suspect. He—”
“You know what Ben can do,” Barclay says. “He’s the prime suspect.”
“But he’s home—”
Barclay shakes his head. “Tenner, Ben hasn’t been in his home world for almost three months.”
“Look, I know Ben isn’t responsible. That’s why I need your help,” Barclay adds.
That makes me remember what I know of the IA and I realize that if Ben is the prime suspect, they probably have a shoot-on-sight command, and I focus on that.
“Ben would never do this,” I say. “You know him enough to know that.”
Barclay nods. “I’ve said as much, but none of my higher-ups will listen.”
“What do you need from me? To testify or something?” I ask. Character witnesses don’t count for much, but I know Ben. I know him better than anyone else. I know what kind of person he is, the mistakes he’s made, and the things he’s done to make up for them.
Barclay shakes his head, and something about the look on his face tells me whatever his plan is, it’s bigger, more dangerous, and maybe even less legal than something like testifying. “I need you to help me find him.”
I almost laugh. “If he’s not at home and he’s not here, I’ve got no other ideas. You have resources I can’t even imagine. How can I possibly help you? Besides, did you look around on your way in? My world is trying to rebuild. I need to be here.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not on the case anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Barclay sighs. “I’ve been taken off the case because I have too many ties to it. They think that I’m personally invested since I know all the main players involved.”
He doesn’t have to say that he thinks it’s bullshit. I know he does, and he’s right. Sure, he worked a case that ended up involving Ben, but Ben was a target in that case, and if he were a suspect now, any agency would want an agent who knew the suspect to help out.
Agents are taken off cases for one reason: when they’ve become a liability.
Barclay didn’t seem to dislike Ben—once he decided not to shoot him, at least—but he didn’t have any real personal ties to him, either. If Ben did something wrong, Barclay wouldn’t hesitate to do what was needed. It’s the one quality he has that I actually respect.
Which begs the question: Who thinks he would be a liability, and why?
“What about Eric?” I say. Eric Brandt is another IA agent and Barclay’s partner. “You said he was your mentor. He could talk to someone.”
Barclay shakes his head, and when he speaks again his voice is thick. “Eric is dead.”
“Officially, it was an accident,” Barclay says. “He was home alone, taking a shower. He slipped and fell, pulling the shower curtain down with him, and knocked himself out. The shower curtain clogged the drain and he drowned.”
And in case I hadn’t heard the skepticism in his voice or seen it on his face, he adds, “But it wasn’t an accident. Someone murdered him.”
I don’t disagree. It sounds like a scene from one of those bad Final Destination movies—too many coincidences lining up to equal an accidental death. Instead, I get to the point. “Who would do that?”
“I don’t know,” Barclay admits.
I open my mouth to offer my opinion, but then I stop and look at Barclay. He’s looking at me, waiting—expectant even. He obviously has a theory, and he wants to know if I’m going to come up with the same one.
I take a deep breath because I know that if I’m right, I might be about to dive into something huge. “When did it happen?”
“Both Eric and I wrote up our reports as soon as we realized this was human trafficking, not just one missing person,” Barclay answers. “Then we were excused from the case. I fought it. This case was huge for me, a career maker, but Eric told me to lay off the information, that he’d talk to the higher-ups.”
“And he did,” I say. I don’t like where I think this is going.
Barclay nods. “Two days later, Eric was dead and a report he supposedly signed with ‘proof’ against Ben was on the server. The order to find Ben and bring him in was issued.”
“That means …” My heart hammers in my chest, and I can’t say what I think out loud.