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you to lift the table.’
    As a rule, I don’t go around reading people. Most telepaths make a lot of noise when they read someone, but my TP is unusual in that it’s silent. This means it’s more than tempting to enter people’s minds to see what they’re thinking, but James instilled in me a strict discipline against it. However, I sometimes make an exception and Karla had been one, since I’d wanted to know if her job offer was genuine.
    Inside her mind now, my TP recognises the flutter of Karla’s memories and I’m distracted for a moment, almost missing my cue. Pursing my lips, I’m about to lift the table when a rustling noise comes from behind me. Startled, I spin around. The back room is washed with shadows, full of shelving crammed with products for the shop. Nothing more meets my ears and I put it down to a random rodent.
    â€˜Thomas Willowaaaaard .’ Karla sounds irritated. ‘Give us a sign, please?’
    I can’t lift much more than my own weight, so it takes quite a bit of concentration to lift the heavy antique cast iron table an inch off the ground. The customer gasps and jerks her hands out of Karla’s. Anticipating the move, I drop the table and the candles tumble to the floor, flames extinguishing. Karla shakes her head.
    â€˜I’m sorry, but by letting my hands go, you broke the connection.’
    â€˜Can you get it back?’ the woman asks.
    Karla runs a hand across her eyes, sighs heavily. ‘I can try. But it will be difficult for me. I will have to double my fee.’
    â€˜Double?’ The woman’s voice turns hard.
    Attracted to the woman’s change of tone, my TP whisks towards her. Before I can stop it, it flitters through her mind, investigating. I realise two things an instant before the front door of the Crystal Cave is kicked open. The customer is a TK herself, and she’s also law enforcement.
    Two uniformed police rush into the room and Karla’s client pulls a very legit-looking enforcement badge from her purse. ‘Karla Maurene Devereaux, you are under arrest for charges of fraud and public mischief.’ She gestures towards the back, where I’ve begun to retreat, thoughts on escape. ‘There’s a teeker back there helping her pull it off.’
    I’m out the back door and jumping down the fire escape, quick smart. My boots hit the ground heavy and pain spikes my shins. Then I’m splashing through dirty puddles as I sprint for the end of the alley, knowing it’s my only chance of escape. Legs pumping, chest burning, my one thought is I can’t get caught . I can’t get that third strike. I’m halfway down the alley when hands emerge from a shadow and grab me. At first I struggle, thinking I’ve been busted. It takes me a moment before I recognise Leather Jacket from the store.
    â€˜Don’t go that way. They’re waiting for you.’ He tries to pull me over to where a fire escape hangs low. I jerk my hand out of his grasp and he snatches it back with a snarl. ‘Don’t be an idiot.’
    A light sweeps over us and the pounding of heavy shoes has me backing up against Leather Jacket. Four law enforcement officers appear, holding slim black shock-sticks that are aimed at us. Leather Jacket pushes me behind him and raises his hands as the officers shout at us.
    â€˜I have identification,’ Leather Jacket says.
    â€˜Down on the ground!’
    â€˜Hands behind your head, before I juice you up.’
    â€˜I have identification,’ Leather Jacket tries again.
    â€˜Shut your mouth, rat-sucker! Face down now!’
    Leather Jacket’s eyes slide my way. ‘Did I just get called a rat-sucker?’
    â€˜I’m sure it was meant nicely.’ My hands are already in the air and I’m starting to make my way to my knees.
    Leather Jacket lowers one hand. ‘I’m reaching for my ID now. I am not armed.’
    Both officers