Daughter of Zeus ✔

10.3

It didn't take her long to drive from the bastard's place to where Kressick had first taken her. Owing to the late hour, the parking garage was full up. It took a few minutes to find a space, especially one with a charging station.

She plugged in her car. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she hastened to the elevator. Before she got there, Ada felt a tap on her shoulder.

She straightened and turned.

The offensive tapping hand belonged to a Statie, a white man with a square jaw and squat frame. Considering the Prominent aversion to physical contact, even a tap on the shoulder amounted to a near threat.

"Yes?"

"I.D. please."

Ada knew better than to ask why she was being randomly targeted. Rumors floated around about Staties macing those who asked questions. Progressive as Atlanta was, the Stop and Search Law remained in effect, allowing agents to frisk anyone without cause. As a Puerto Rican woman, Ada was used to the suspicion.

She opened her left eye wide. The Statie passed the I.D. device over her retina. Ada concentrated, ready to change the N.A. stats on the device. The Statie squinted at the scan results, frowning.

"It says here you live in Colorado, Tramp. What are you doing in Atlanta?"

Ada sighed. The Statie took it as exasperation, but she was relieved. Her reversal of the State files all those weeks ago had been successful. For now, she was okay.

"I'm vacationing."

"Why?"

"C'mon, it's late. Is this really necessary?"

"You must answer all State questions, by law." To drive his point home, the Statie placed a hand on his pistol. The bottom of the handle glinted red in the light of the garage, which indicated it was standard laser issue.

Once Ada had better control over her tongue, she responded, "Since you asked, I needed to get away from home after the death of my husband."

"Your info says he died almost six months ago."

She suppressed the urge to hit the idiot. "For two months, I was a hermit crab. I didn't want to go anywhere, understand?" His blank stare said he didn't. "My friend dragged me out of the house to stay at his townhome here in Atlanta. I'm going up to see him now."

"Name?"

She sighed. "Kressick Lyman, a Prominent."

The Statie narrowed his eyes. An irrational panic raged inside her chest, choking her.

God, does he know? He knows I stole that money. He might even know about my trip to the clinic ten years ago.

Damn o-planes, always watching.

She readied a hand behind her back, blue sparks licking out from her fingertips.

But he said, "Go on then, Citizen."

The power surge faded within her.

Exhaling another sigh of relief, she walked to the dissipating elevator doors, carefully glancing behind her. The Statie had left. In the aftermath, she still felt poked and prodded with his questions. He had probably decided to keep questioning  after reading her religious— none—and political affiliations—Tramp.

He had stopped her because of something as inane as her car. Electric cars and their owners were suspicious, owing to their rarity. Either that, or Moretz had tipped him off.

Both possibilities made her angry, and she embraced the anger. It was familiar. Comforting, even.