“What’s the point?”

Then Allie asked the big question. “Are you guilty, Seth?”

He looked away uncomfortably. “You said you wouldn’t ask that.”

“I’m asking.”

Now Seth looked scared. “They found my fingerprints on the gasoline can,” he said. “Why does it matter what I tell you? They’ve all made up their minds anyway.”

“You work in a gas station. That’s why your hands smelled like gasoline, and that’s why your prints were on the gas can—you probably filled it for someone.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But nobody believes that’s true. Not even you.”

“If it’s true,” Allie said, “I’ll believe it. Now close your eyes and think about the fire.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to think about it. All I ever do is think about it!”

Allie held eye contact. His gaze was still cold, still mistrustful, and now that she was here with him, she couldn’t tell anymore. What she thought was innocence might have just been shell shock from having been caught.

“Don’t move,” Allie said. Then, making sure the lawyer stayed asleep, she leaped out of her body across the table and right into the mind of the prisoner.

—Cold in here / cigarette / this is useless / I need a cigarette—

She probed his thoughts, poured through his memories like she was rifling through a filing cabinet.

—Hey what the / how the / who the?—

She didn’t try to hide herself, because that didn’t matter. In fact, it was better if he knew exactly what was happening. Finally, she found it. Or rather, she didn’t find it. There was no memory of starting that fire! He had a lot of other crazy stuff going on in that head of his, but none of it had anything to do with arson. He was at the gas station cash register a block away, and once the fire had started, he had actually gone into the building to try to help people. He didn’t start the fire—he was trying to be a hero!

Now that Allie was convinced of his innocence, she left him, leaping back into the lawyer. But something had gone wrong. Her face was down on the table.

Suddenly the guard—who must have glanced through the small glass window in the door—burst into the room, ripping Seth from the chair and throwing him back against the wall.

It was Allie’s mistake, and a stupid one, at that. When she had leaped from the woman’s body, she hadn’t stabilized her in any way. The woman, still asleep, had fallen forward. Now that Allie was back inside of her, she raised her head off the table, but the guard was already restraining Seth.

“What did he do?” the guard asked, then yelled at Seth, “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Allie shouted, and, thinking quickly, she added, “I had a dizzy spell. I put my head down. Are you going to beat my client because his lawyer got dizzy? I’m sure the media would love to hear about that.”

The guard backed off instantly at the mention of media.

“Now please, leave me to consult with my client.”

The guard reluctantly backed off and left, but not before throwing a suspicious glare at Seth.

Once the door was closed, Allie took a deep breath to get her thoughts settled, and to make sure she was still in complete control of her body. When she looked at Seth he was staring straight at her, still backed against the wall.

“Muh . . . Muh . . . Ms. Gutierrez,” he said. “Something just happened. Not the guard, something else.”

Allie took a deep breath. “Just sit down.”

“But Ms. Gutierrez—”

“I’m not Ms. Gutierrez.”

He stared at her with the same lost expression Allie had seen on TV. He came forward and lowered himself into his chair, never taking his eyes off of her.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Allie said, “and don’t do anything that might make the guard come in again, okay?”

Seth nodded, clearly frightened beyond words.

“I saw into your mind. I know you’re innocent . . . and I’m going to get you out of here.”

“But . . . but my fingerprints,” Seth said, “and all that evidence they planted . . .”

“It doesn’t matter, because you’re never going to go to trial. I’m getting you out . . . do you understand?”

When he realized what she was saying, he nodded and bit his lip nervously. “How?”

Allie tried to explain it to him as best she could. “I can be whoever I want to be. I jump into people and I take them over. And no, you’re not crazy, this is really happening.”

“You . . . can read my mind from over there?”

“No, I just guessed what you were thinking.”

“Good guess.”

Allie leaned closer to him. “If this is going to work, you’re going to have to trust me, and do exactly what I say.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Why not?” Clearly he still wasn’t convinced that this was real, and that was a problem, because if he doubted her for an instant it would all fall apart.

“Listen to me,” Allie said as sternly as she could. “If you don’t do what I say, you are going to be tried as an adult—and you won’t last very long in a real prison.”

That made him squirm. “Okay,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tonight,” Allie told him, “you’re going to hurt yourself. Not enough to cause any real damage, but enough so that they have to take you to the infirmary.”

“There’s security at the infirmary, too,” Seth said.

“That doesn’t matter,” Allie told him. “It’s not the guards I’m worried about, they’re predictable. But if the other prisoners figure out that something’s fishy, there’s no telling what will happen.”

“Okay,” said Seth. “Okay. So . . . how will I know you? I mean, if you can be anyone, how will I know who you’ll be?” It was a good question.

“Code word!” Allie said. “I’ll say a code word, so you’ll know.”

“Great. What is it?”

Allie thought for a moment. It had to be something no one would accidentally say.

“Hightower,” Allie told him, and shivered at the name spoken aloud in the living world.

“High tower,” said Seth. “Got it.”

“Now, I’m going to wake up your lawyer and leave. But you’ve got to act like nothing happened; as if she just walked into the room, sat down, and you’ve been waiting for her to say something. Can you do that?”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot,” said Seth. “I even had an acting class before I quit school.”

“Right,” said Allie. “Okay, then I’ll see you tonight.” Allie prepared to wake up the woman but just before she did, Seth said, “So, who are you?”

Allie was about to say that it didn’t matter, but you know what? It did matter, she mattered. She didn’t need the world to know that she was doing this good deed, but if he knew, that would be enough. “My name is Alexandra Johnson.” Then she added, “I’m not from around here.”

Allie had no idea why this was so important to her. Perhaps it had to do with that sense of helplessness she felt when she was tied to the front of the train. Wrongful imprisonment struck a very deep chord in her, especially when she knew she could do something about it. Somehow this punk represented every one of Mary’s kids—every kid denied the right to move on. Allie knew it was crazy, but freeing him would be satisfying in a way that she could not explain.

Deep down, she knew there was more to it—something tickling the back of her mind that she couldn’t get at. Right now she didn’t really want to try. It was time to act, not to think.

Now she was glad that she had been humbled by the coyote, learning that she was not all-powerful, that she could not do everything. Because this skill was enough to make anyone arrogant beyond belief. To know the truth of every situation, in anyone’s mind, to be able to dispense justice without any oversight. To be judge and jury and know absolutely that your assessment is correct. No human being had the right to have such power, and yet every skinjacker did. She had to hold on to some of that humility she experienced so that she would use this power wisely.

Allie didn’t leave the detention center that day. She waited on a deadspot, and there were no shortage of them in such a place. She watched the movement of the guards. She piggybacked on several of them just to learn the procedures of opening and closing security gates and doors.

Seth was in solitary confinement; all high-profile prisoners were. But the only way out was through the main cell block. Moving a prisoner anywhere in the detention center always required two guards. Allie could skinjack one guard, put him to sleep, then leap to the other guard and run with Seth—but that wouldn’t go over well in the middle of a crowded cell block—especially one where the inmates wanted to see the Benson Burner lynched just as badly as the public. Allie knew the only way to get Seth out was to get him out of the cell block first in some legitimate way. . . .

That night Seth Fellon broke his nose. His wails echoed in the halls of solitary. “I deed a doctor!” he yelled. “My doze! I deed a doctor!”

One of the guards on duty reluctantly came to check it out, peering through the little window into the small concrete cell. He cursed about the bloody mess that was all over the room, then went to get a second guard so they could escort him to the infirmary.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” one of the guards said, as they pulled him out of his cell. “Mess yourself up, then claim that we did it to you.” Then he pointed to the corner of the hallway. “See that? That’s a security camera, moron. It’ll prove you did it all on your lonesome.”

Once they arrived at the infirmary, the doctor on call took his time in getting there. Both guards remained while the nurse took care of him, doing her best to stop the bleeding and disinfecting the gash across the bridge of his nose.

“How did you do this?” she asked.

“Fell and hit my face on the toilet.”

“Ouch,” said the one of the guards, then laughed, so that no one could accuse him of being sympathetic to an arsonist.

Then, when the doctor finally arrived, the nurse turned to him and said, “It’s about time you came down off your high tower.”

“Don’t start,” said the doctor as if it were a perfectly natural thing to say.

Seth met the nurse’s gaze, recognizing something in her eyes.

As far as Allie was concerned, this was all about timing. She knew there were five security doors between them and the main entrance. She knew where she needed a magnetic swipe, where she needed a code, and where she’d have to be buzzed in by a guard. She was only a single skinjacker, but if she had her timing down, she could do this.

“We’ll take X-rays in the morning,” the doctor said, after he had sewn up the gash, “once the swelling goes down a bit.” Then he pulled off his surgical gloves, tossed them in the trash, and was gone.