“That I know of. I’m sure the NSA, CIA and probably you guys have something like it. But not for the public. Probably not as clean code. Definitely not made by one person. Most of the face-matching sites are designed to be intentionally sloppy and skew toward better-looking matches. People upload their photos for fun to see what celebrity they look like. The more famous and attractive, the better. If they were accurate, nobody would ever use them.”

Reynolds takes a lot of pride in his work. He’s the type of person who has to denigrate what everyone else has done to feel better about his own accomplishments. That being said, he’s definitely intelligent. While he may be socially awkward, I don’t want to underestimate his analytical skills.

I drop a compliment. “I guess that’s why yours is the best.”

He rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah. So what’s it like being famous?”

“Pardon me?”

Reynolds glances at me, then quickly looks away. “I pulled up your image from the newspaper and found some photos and videos of you online. Your real name is Blackstar? Right?”

So Reynolds decided to research me? I shouldn’t be surprised. I Google everyone I meet as well, especially guys I meet. To Reynolds, it’s his way of trying to get the upper hand.

“Actually, it’s Blackwood. My grandfather changed it to ‘star’ to sound famous. He also wanted to show up Harry Blackstone, I guess.”

“I watched a torrent of a Japanese television special. You looked young then.”

He has no idea how to talk to a woman. “I was seventeen.”

“The tiger thing was kind of cool. I figured out how you did it, though.”

So could a ten-year-old. “Yeah, analytical people can see through magic.”

“Why did you stop?” he asks.

“Because I wanted to help people. Magic wasn’t my thing. I had enough as a child.”

Reynolds nods. “Do you miss dressing like that?”

30

LIAM REYNOLDS is deliberately provoking me. He’s obviously watched television shows where the detectives try to corner the suspects, only to have the tables turned on them. He thinks this is what smart people do. They show the dumb cops how brilliant they are. He probably pissed himself with delight when he made the connection between me and my past life. It’s a little piece of information he wants to hold over me.

I can think of a thousand unkind things to say, but none of them will get me what I want. “Yeah, I didn’t care for the outfits myself.”

“I didn’t say they looked bad . . .” He’s trying to be flirty but only knows how to be creepier.

“It paid for college.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I bet. Those Japanese guys loved you.”

So much so, they even made a pornographic manga comic featuring a girl who looked just like me. Jesse Magicstar. Reynolds is the last type of guy I’d want finding out about that. I look for another question to ask him. “You ever come across anybody who’s acted suspiciously? Maybe asked you for the code?”