Harmonic by Erica O’Rourke

Chair,” I say. “He killed himself rather than be captured by the Consort. At least, that’s what the report says.”
    I’d shown it to Garnett and tossed it aside to focus on the present.
    â€œYou think he opened a coffee cart in an Echo? That’s kind of a stretch. How could he have survived the frequency poisoning?”
    â€œHe must have figured out a way around it,” I say. “The only thing Monty ever cared about was finding my grandmother. He never visited the same Echo twice. But we went back there all the time.”
    â€œTo ride a carousel. He was letting you and Del have fun.”
    â€œHe was keeping us occupied while he talked to Sal.” Classic Monty: using kids to serve his own purpose.
    â€œYou think he was Monty’s contact?”
    The Free Walkers cut Monty off after his first arrest. If Sal was a Free Walker, he wouldn’t have been meeting my grandfather for coffee every other month. They must not have known he had survived. Court Salvatore had faked his own death to escape Consort and Free Walkers alike. Court became Sal, and started fresh.
    But starting over doesn’t mean forgetting the past. Two men, each carrying a history they couldn’t share with anyone else. Friendships had formed over less, I suppose.
    Despite the Consort’s interrogation, Monty has managed to keep the Free Walkers’ secrets. Sal, on the other hand, has nobody asking him questions—and I’m willing to bet he has answers.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Y ou really think this Sal guy’s still alive?” Laurel asks as we pull into the parking garage. Between oversleeping, my emergency stop for fresh clothes at one of the neighborhood boutiques, and our plan for today, this is the latest I’ve gone in to CCM since I started training.
    The last thing I need today is to be conspicuous. Not when we’re so close.
    â€œI hope so. He’s the key to tracking down the moles in the Consort. Someone must have helped him fake that report, all those years ago.”
    I’d planned on finding a cell in the Echoes—not in CCM.
    â€œWhat are we going to do if we find him?” she asks.
    â€œGarnett will take him into custody.”
    She kills the ignition but makes no move to leave the car. “Are you sure that’s the best plan?”
    â€œThat’s always been the plan,” I say. “I locate the Free Walkers and Garnett handles the arrests.”
    â€œSal might not know anything. Let’s wait to tell Garnett until we’ve talked to him ourselves. Find out if he’s really a threat.”
    â€œWithout backup?” I ask. “No way. Not after last night.”
    â€œHe’s probably seventy-five years old,” she points out. “Even I can outrun him. If you report this to Lattimer, there’s a chance the mole might see it. Who knows how high up this goes?”
    She has a point. Even Garnett, affable as he is, could be on the wrong side. I barely know him. He’s deflected every question I’ve asked, turning them around on me.
    â€œI have to tell him about the cleaving. He’ll think it’s weird if I don’t.”
    â€œIf he’s a spy, he already knows,” Laurel mutters.
    We board the elevator through the parking garage. When the car stops at the lobby, Garnett joins us. Laurel raises her eyebrows, like this is significant. I roll my eyes.
    â€œHey there,” he says, lifting his coffee in greeting.
    â€œMorning,” I say. His gaze darts to Laurel and back to me. “Garnett, this is—”
    â€œLaurel Pruitt,” he says, cutting me off. “Pleasure.”
    She smiles tightly as he shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    â€œAddie and I are on desk duty together. I imagine she’s told you about me.”
    Laurel hums something that might be agreement, but doesn’t elaborate. Garnett’s head tips to the side as he studies her, as if he knows