There was a funny, small smile playing on Sheriff Dodson's lips, which could have been skepticism. But it was quickly replaced by a grim frown.
"You should call if you're out later than you expected," the sheriff advised sternly. "It's not fair to worry your mother when picking up the phone only takes a minute."
Maria blinked, turning over the sheriff's words, searching for any hidden meaning. She came up with nothing. The sheriff's statement seemed clean.
"You're so right," Maria told Sheriff Dodson, then turned to face her mother. "I'm sorry, Mom. I should have called."
"Next time, okay?" her mother replied.
"I will."
Maria's mother let out a long sigh. "Would everyone like some tea?" she asked. "I even have some with caffeine that Maria doesn't know about."
"Mom, you promised to cut out the stimulants," Maria protested.
"Sounds great, Mimi, but I can't," Sheriff Dodson interrupted, glancing at Maria. "If everything's okay here now, I've got to get home to Julie. If she wakes up and finds I'm not there… Well, it wouldn't be good."
Maria stared at the sheriff in confusion. Her mother's first name was Margaret, and only her close friends called her Mimi. What was going on? Why were her mother and Sheriff Dodson suddenly acting all buddy-buddy? And who was Julie?
"Some other time," Mrs. DeLuca said. "And thanks, Kasey, for helping me out tonight."
"No problem," Sheriff Dodson said as she headed toward the door. "You know where to find me if you need anything."
She walked out. It wasn't until after she closed the door behind her that Maria felt her heart rate begin to slow. Even though the sheriff hadn't said one word that seemed suspicious, Maria still felt like she'd just had a close call.
Mrs. DeLuca put her hand on Maria's shoulder. "I could still make tea-some of your stuff," she said. "I could use a cup myself. Want any?"
"Sure," Maria said.
She followed her mother into the kitchen and took two teacups out of the cabinet. "Who's Julie?" Maria asked.
"Kasey's daughter," Mrs. DeLuca replied. She filled a teakettle with water at the sink. "That's why she came over this evening. Tonight was my night to host my MWP group, remember? We had a good turnout."
MWP stood for Mothers Without Partners, a support group Maria's mother had joined after the divorce. So Dodson's being here really had nothing to do with Maria-probably.
Maria took a deep breath. "That's great!" she said with a way-too-big smile.
"Kasey stayed after the meeting and helped me clean up," Maria's mother said. She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. "Then she hung around to keep me company while I waited up for you."
"I didn't mean to make you worry," Maria said as she sat down at the kitchen table.
Mrs. DeLuca sat down across from Maria and smiled. "All's well that ends well, right?" she said. "Just call next time."
"I will," Maria promised. And she would because she had no wish to come home ever again and find the sheriff in her house.
Maybe I'm just being paranoid, she thought. But the whole story about Sheriff Dodson just happening to hang around tonight seems a little too convenient. What if she's part of Clean Slate and just using Mom to keep an eye on me?
Yeah, Maria was being paranoid.
But sometimes a healthy dose of paranoia could keep you alive.
"You're not going to believe this," Max said as Michael pulled himself into Max's bedroom through the window.
"Sounds big," Michael said, brushing off the front of his black T-shirt.
"It's huge," Max responded, his blue eyes wide. "Liz and Adam broke into DuPris's office."
Michael's face went slack. "They did what?" he demanded. "Do they have a death wish or something?"
"That's not even half of it," Max said, plopping down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He looked up at Michael, hoping he wasn't going to lose it when he heard the news.
"What is it?" Michael asked.
"They found a picture of Valenti in his office at the compound," Max said. He took a deep breath.
"And?" Michael prompted.
"And he was shaking hands with Alex's dad."
Michael just looked at Max for a moment. Then he slowly lowered himself onto the desk chair. "The Major is Clean Slate."
It was a statement, not a question, but Max felt the need to answer it, anyway.
"We don't know that for sure," he said. "It could mean nothing."
"But it could mean something," Michael said, his gray eyes flashing. "If he's Clean Slate, he's already out for our blood, and if he finds out we're responsible for Alex's disappearance…"
Max's stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he found himself staring at the carpet. We're responsible. There should have been some way to tell the difference between Alex and DuPris while the wormhole was open. Even though Alex had been molecularly altered to resemble DuPris, Max still should have been able to tell them apart somehow-
"It was an accident," Michael said. "I can feel you getting your boxers in a bunch over there. Stop it, Max. How many times do we have to tell you it wasn't your fault? You were tricked. We all were. I was just thinking that any Clean Slate agent would assume it was us."
Max nodded, but he wasn't totally convinced. He knew he was going to feel guilty until Alex was back where he belonged. On earth.
"So… what do we do about the Major?" Max asked, changing the subject.
"Avoid him like the plague?" Michael suggested.
"There's still a possibility that he has nothing to do with anything," Max said. "I need more proof than a photo Liz found in DuPris's file cabinet. It's not like the Astral Projector ever printed a photo that wasn't doctored."
"Good point," Michael said. "We'll just keep an eye on him… from afar."
"And act cool if we run into him," Max added.
"Maybe you can act cool," Michael said, smiling. "But you're never going to be cool, geek."
"Dork," Max replied.
"I don't have to take this abuse," Michael said, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'm outta here."
"So soon?"
"Yeah," Michael said. He shook his new keys with a grin. "I want to go kick back at Ray's place, now that it's my place. Jealous?"
Max rolled his eyes. "Insanely," he answered. "Later."
"Peace out," Michael joked, climbing through the window.
When he was gone, Max lay back in bed and decided to distract himself with some mindless TV. He started surfing channels and stopped on a cooking show, but the combinations of ingredients didn't appeal to him. Humans just never mixed sweets and spicy foods for some reason. Like a hamburger covered in applesauce. Mmm.
The collective consciousness agreed with him. A ripple of approving images entered the back of Max's mind. Yes, they concurred. They loved fried meat and tangy fruit together. One of the beings gave Max a taste of a favorite dish, and he could feel the juices running down his throat. Awesome.
Then he realized he hadn't tried to connect to the consciousness at all.
Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life? The idea that the collective consciousness would always be peering over his metaphoric shoulder gave Max the creeps. Will the connection keep getting stronger? Max wondered. Even when I'm not trying to connect?
He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he should cut back on the amount of time he spent willingly making a full connection to the consciousness. Maybe that would stop or slow down the automatic linking.
But if I do that, Max thought, then how can I keep tabs on how Alex is doing? I've got to keep everybody calm about Alex.