Harmonic by Erica O’Rourke Page B

that.”
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    In the Archives, Laurel beckons me to one of the back rooms. “I pulled all of the records from Sal’s Walks,” she says, closing the blinds.
    â€œHow did you know?”
    â€œBecause I know you,” she says, standing so close that I feel light-headed.
    â€œImpressive,” I say, surveying the pile of old reports and maps.
    â€œNot really. There’s nothing in here about a carousel, or a coffee cart, or anything that will lead us to him. Monty wasn’t officially Walking when he took you there, so we don’t have a record of it.”
    â€œGreat. Another dead end.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she says, touching her forehead to my shoulder. “I was hoping . . . hold on. Monty kept a journal, didn’t he? Even after he stopped working for the Consort?”
    I nod. All of Monty’s Walks are recorded in those journals, right up until the day he was captured. I spent hours sitting with him at the kitchen table while he filled page after page with his cramped, spidery writing.
    â€œCall Del,” she urges. “Ask her to find the frequency, and we can check it out after work.”
    â€œYou are brilliant,” I say, giving her a fast kiss that turns slow.
    â€œI am,” she agrees. “One of many reasons to love me.”
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    To avoid Garnett’s questions, I call Del from a coffee shop down the street.
    â€œQuit hovering,” she answers, in a thick, gritty voice. “I’m up.”
    â€œYes, you’re a ray of sunshine,” I say. “Go downstairs. I need your help.”
    â€œHuh. First time for everything, I guess.”
    I hear the rustle of blankets and the thud of her feet hitting the floor, a muffled curse.
    â€œAre you in the living room?”
    â€œI’m getting there. I need coffee.”
    â€œFunny you should mention that.”
    â€œThere’s nothing funny about caffeine deprivation,” she mutters, clomping downstairs.
    â€œDo you remember that park with the carousel Monty used to take us to?” I hum the tune, and after a minute, Del joins in.
    â€œKind of.”
    â€œGood. I need you to find one of the journal entries for those Walks.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I need it.”
    My evasion has piqued her interest. “But why do you need it? You’re holding out on me.”
    â€œDel, how many times have I done something for you without asking questions? It’s payback time.”
    She snorts, then falls silent. I can hear her leafing through the pages, and I wait, fidgeting and fighting the urge to bite my nails.
    â€œDidn’t hear you leave this morning,” she says, with studied nonchalance.
    â€œYou can’t hear anything from three flights up,” I hedge.
    The line goes quiet.
    â€œDel?”
    â€œLaurel seems nice,” she says softly.
    â€œShe is.” But even now, I worry that I can’t make it work. Can’t balance both halves of my life without damaging both. “But it’s complicated.”
    â€œYou could be happy,” Del says. “If you’re going to waste it, you deserve to be miserable.”
    She might have a point.
    â€œI don’t know if I can do it,” I say, nibbling on a thumbnail. “Be a Walker and be with her.”
    â€œThey’re not mutually exclusive,” she replies. “I get that you have weird perfectionist issues, but get over yourself. You’re the best around, and everybody knows it. Doesn’t mean you can’t also be with Laurel.”
    â€œWhat if it does? I’ve seen what loving someone did to Monty,” I say in a low voice. “What it did to you. I think your logic may be flawed.”
    She’s silent for a moment. Then, “I left him in that Echo. I watched the world unravel, with Simon in it. With my heart in it,” she says, and