How’d You Get Behind Me?

“Hey!”

“What the hell? How’d you . . . you just went around that corner a block away, how—?”

“Don’t worry about it. Why were you following me? I’ve been watching you since you started.”

“It’s a job. I’m a private investigator, I was hired to follow you and write down where you stopped.”

“Every place I’ve stopped was a random choice. Who hired you?"

“I can’t tell you that. Confidentiality.”

“Are you sure? I already know, but I’d like you to tell me.”

“I can’t. It’s the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“It’s company policy.”

“And you own Johnsons Investigations.”

“Well, yeah, so?”

“Change the rules.”

“I can’t just—.”

“Yeah, you can, you own it. Summerhill.”

“But . . . how’d you kn . . . what’s a summerhill?”

“The guy who hired you.”

“But—.”

“Give this letter to him, here’s $500 for your trouble. If you don’t deliver it I’ll tell him you didn’t and you do not want that.”

“Oh god no. No problem, I’ll deliver. Why did he hire me?”

“He wants to find my friends and family so he can blackmail me into stealing things for him.”

“You a pro thief?”

“No, and I won’t become one. That’s why you. Now get that to him.”

“But, why?”

“Watch.”

“Wha . .. HOLY SHIT! How’d you get behind me?”

“I teleport, I can be anywhere. What do you feel in your back?”

“Something very sharp.”

“An ice pick. Could you have stopped me from hurting you?”

“God, no.”

“That’s the rest of my message. Tell him in great detail how that felt, I could have stuck it in you anywhere without warning. I recommend he forget me. You convince him how smart that would be or one morning he won’t wake up. And, I never want to see you again.”

“I guarantee you never will!”

“Good, then you’ll survive.”