The Stranger, Mark Ayre [microsoft ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Any goodwill towards Abbie, Travis’ call would have eradicated. This was never going to work.

She still had to try.

“You’ve put a lot of money behind me,” said Abbie. “With my pay, I cover my mortgage, my bills, and contribute a healthy amount to a pension with plenty left over.”

“You should get Netflix,” said Ben. “There’s some great stuff on there.”

“Point is, you think what I do is worth a salary that provides me a comfortable life.”

“We think you’re more than worthy of a comfortable life,” said Ben. “Yet you plough your disposable income not into jacuzzis and massage chairs but grubby hotels and bland rental cars..”

“That’s my problem,” said Abbie. She would never tell Ben why she spent so much time in hotels. He might have suspected, but Abbie would never confirm that the nightmares, the non-prophetic ones, were at their worst when she slept in the same bed for multiple consecutive nights. Only by moving could she keep them quiet and sometimes at bay. She guessed this was part of her punishment. For her failures.

“But you have a point?” said Ben.

“The point is you do all that so I can continue to save lives, and that proves you care about helping people—“

“No,” Ben cut in.

Abbie gripped her phone a little tighter. “You don’t care about helping people?”

“Of course we do,” said Ben, “You’re right. We pay you good money so you can follow your visions and save lives. But that’s where it stops. Your opening gambit confirms my suspicion that this money is going to someone you have not seen in a vision. Therefore, my answer can only be no.”

“You haven’t even heard—“

“Nor do I need to,” Ben cut in again. “Abagail, you do a wonderful service for humankind. We support you because we believe in the guidance your receive. Your dreams tell you who is worthy of your help. So help them. Let charities deal with the rest.”

“I see what you’re saying—“

“No you don’t. There’s no need to be diplomatic, honey. Tell me how you feel.”

Abbie had taken the phone from her ear. She took two deep breaths then put it back.

“Okay, I don’t. I believe if you mean that you want to help people, you should support me in helping this kid. He’s lost and alone, and the debts his mother has run-up are going to cripple him.”

“He’s one boy,” said Ben.

“And Eddie, the guy I’m going to save, is one man.”

“But he’s not,” said Ben. “More often than not, you save not just the person from your dream. How many killers have you taken out of action? And how many of those killers would not have stopped at the victim you strove to save but would have killed again, and again, and again. For each life you save, you’re actually saving two or ten. Sometimes hundreds. Can you not see the value in that? Vs giving money to some boy whose mother has run up debts? How would that help him anyway? If his mother ran up debts before, she would do so again. No. That is not something our organisation can get behind.”

Abbie had risen from the bed without noticing. As she had in the park when she had met with Michael earlier that day, she began to pace. She wanted to explode. Wanted to tear verbal strips from Ben. She fought for calm.

“Maybe we could talk about a lower amount.”

“No.”

“But—“

“No. Abagail, you must drop this. There will be no money. None. That’s my final word.”

There it was again. Like Abbie was a teenager begging her father for money so she could buy a dress for prom, and he was putting his foot down. Only this wasn’t a dress. This wasn’t prom. This was a good kid’s life.

“I’m begging for your support on this,” said Abbie. “I have some money saved, but it’s not enough.”

“And you’re not to give him a penny.”

“Excuse me?”

“Was I not clear? None of that money is to go to this boy, or his mother, because I need you to forget him and focus on the task at hand.”

“As I understood it,” said Abbie, “that money was mine to use as I wished.”

“Within reason.”

“And a jacuzzi is within reason but improving the life of an innocent kid isn’t?”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Again the phone came away. Somehow, Abbie managed not to hurl it across the room. Taking deep breaths did nothing to calm the furious beat of her heart.

“You can’t stop me.”

“You don’t think so? We can cut you off.”

“You need me.”

“Abagail, I care greatly about you, whether you believe that or not. The organisation I work for values you. But neither it nor I need you. We like what you do. We wish to support you. But if we had to cut you off, we would.”

“Maybe that’s okay.”

“Must I dignify that with an answer?” Ben asked. “Because I can. But you know already how ridiculous you’re being. You could tell me you’ll begin ignoring your dreams, but we both know you won’t because you can’t. How are the nightmares recently?”

Abbie said nothing. Even on her best nights, she tended to suffer at least one. In vivid, horrifying detail, she would watch the demise of one of the men or women she had failed to save. She had seen each one a hundred times or more. Each repeat felt like the first time. Every time, she woke in tears.

“You’d need a job,” Ben said. “Even without a reference, I’m sure you’d succeed in acquiring one, but how understanding would they be when you needed to take a couple of days off at a moment’s notice? They’d be fine the first time, maybe even the second. How long could it last?”

Abbie was biting her nails. Catching herself, she pulled her hand away—a stupid show of nerves, of weakness.

“What about when you get arrested?” said Ben. “You’ve been lucky so far, but it will happen. If you’re still working with us, we provide a world-class lawyer. You’ll endure not one day of jail time.