Silver Giraffe

Chapter 1: Mind Tricks

Neal's art studio. Columbia University. Saturday, May 13, 2006.

Neal studied the pen-and-ink drawing lying on the worktable. He'd made a watercolor version of it for Noelle. She should receive it in the mail today. This was the first Mother's Day card he'd made for her. He hoped she didn't find it too sad. Making it had been bittersweet, but how could he not evoke the memory of her twin sister and the only mom he'd known until two years ago?

He'd based the card on a photo his grandmother had given him at the time of Meredith's funeral. It showed the two girls when they were nine years old. They appeared to be giggling about a private joke. When they were kids, their brother had nicknamed them Armageddon and Apocalypse because of all the mischief they'd gotten into, and the merry expressions on their faces seemed to reference that. Who would have dreamed Meredith would later suffer such heartaches? Should he blame his dad?

That probably wouldn't be fair. James couldn't be blamed for all the misfortunes they'd experienced. Danny Brooks, the little boy Neal once was, idealized his dad. Now all Neal possessed were a few photos. The man might as well be a ghost.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. That was likely Oliver. Aidan had asked Neal to talk with him. Oliver was their year at grad school. Like Aidan, he was focused on film studies for his upcoming master's in visual arts. Neal had occasionally seen him in the hallways when he visited Aidan's studio at Prentis Hall, but he knew little about him.

Neal shoved the drawing in the drawer of his worktable and rose to greet his visitor.

Oliver was dressed in jeans, a worn Snoop Dogg t-shirt, and a slim worsted jacket which Neal would like to own. He had brown skin, close-cropped hair, and the handsome, lean appearance of a model or actor.

"Oliver eyed Neal's cluttered studio. "I thought you'd be preparing to vacate your space."

"I lucked out. I get to keep the studio in the summer." Since Neal had received approval to specialize in artist techniques for his doctorate, his advisor had secured permission for him to retain the workspace. He was counting on using the summer to prepare for his upcoming series of workshops.

"I still have a ton of gear to clear out before the deadline next week," Oliver admitted.

He seemed in no hurry to explain why he'd asked Aidan to set up the meeting. Neal cast about for a topic. "Do you have plans for what you're going to do after graduation?"

"Nothing specific. I've been saving money to move to the West Coast, but unlike Aidan, I don't have a job waiting for me." He took a breath, his lips tightening into a hard line, making Neal wonder if he'd touched a nerve.

"Columbia is so expensive, most everyone has a job on the side," Neal commented, fishing for something to draw him out.

"Yeah, Aidan told me you consult for the FBI."

Okay, that's a start. You're interested in my connections with the Bureau. "I've been with them for over two years," Neal said. "I work with the White Collar task force—frauds, copyright cases, forgeries." He let his words trail off, hoping Oliver would plug in whatever was tying him in knots.

"How about sex trafficking?"

Neal shot him a startled look. He'd been prepared to hear about something involved with copyright fraud or forgeries but not this. "That falls under the human trafficking wing. It's not my area but I could direct you—"

"—I can't do anything official," Oliver protested quickly. "If my parents hear about this, I'll be cattle fodder."

"They may not need to find out. Besides, if you know something about a human trafficking incident, your guilt over keeping it quiet will be harder to live with than anything your parents might do to you."