The Drafter

He leaned back against the counter, thinking. “What do you want?”

It wasn’t an agreement, just a question. “Funding.” He snorted, and she warmed. “Equipment to free Silas, and a ride to Detroit for the talisman I made of the night where this all started. Silas can help me re-create the memory tied to it, and with that, the truth comes out.”

“Your talismans,” he said flatly, beads clinking as he shook his head. “They’re nothing but paperweights with your past anchor dead.”

Peri’s chest clenched, but she used the grief, mutating it to anger. “Silas defragmented one of my memories. One he’d never seen. If he did that once, he can do it again. The talisman will help.” Howard’s lips parted in disbelief, and she made a fist in frustration. “Are you going to help me or not?”

There was a knock on the door, and Peri held his eyes. “Doctor?” the vet tech called, and Howard grimaced.

“Don’t open the door!” he said sourly. “I’ve got her cornered.” He leaned over the table, his brow furrowed. “Anchors can’t defragment memories they haven’t witnessed.”

“Opti does it all the time with new drafters. It isn’t impossible, just really hard and time-consuming.” But it hadn’t been either of those things when Silas had done it. “Something happened in the Global Genetics office. Going there and looking at the chalk outline won’t help. I need Silas and my talisman. I need to remember.”

Clearly unhappy, Howard took his out-of-date smartphone from a pocket and checked the screen. “I never agreed with Silas’s plan to use you to gain information.”

“Thank you.”

The phone went dark and he stuffed it away. “That wasn’t a compliment. I thought it was a stupid idea that would hurt him more. I only supported it because he needed to face his grief, not hide from it.” Seeming to have decided something, Howard pushed the jar of swabs from the counter. Peri jumped, startled even though she’d been expecting the harsh noise. “Anne is such a snoop,” he muttered.

Frustrated, Peri splayed her hands on the exam table. “I need a vehicle that won’t be called in as stolen, a few thousand dollars. Maybe a good throwing knife.”

“A few thousand dollars?” Howard echoed, his eyes wide.

“And a toothbrush. I’d kill for a toothbrush.”

Squinting, he rubbed his forehead as if in pain. “Get your squirrel,” he said as he turned to a drawer and pulled out a spool of gauze.

“You’ll help?” she asked as he wrapped his hand.

“I don’t know yet. Keep your mouth shut and come with me.” He opened the door, looking taller on the threshold.

Peri grabbed the box, tucking it under her arm as she paced after him. But she nearly ran into him when he stopped short, a flustered Anne before him. “Get room three cleaned up,” he said, his words clipped. “Cancel my appointments. I’m going to Emergency.”

The woman’s eyes were large. “Are you okay?”

“Just a nip,” he said as he bodily moved her out of his way. “But I want it taken care of now.” Turning, he glared at Peri. “Let’s go. And keep that box closed, will you?”

Head down and box tucked tighter under her arm, she followed him.

“Squirrels!” Howard shouted as he grabbed his coat from the rack behind the desk. “Sure, I’ll take a look. Susan, take a memo. No more squirrels!”

“Are you okay?” the second receptionist wanted to know, already on the phone.

“Ask me tomorrow.” Howard stiff-armed the glass door open. Hardly breathing, Peri followed him out into the dark. Lights were coming on in the lot, and the nearby traffic seemed to glow from the mist. Howard stood with his hands on his hips as he looked at the green monster she’d driven in on. “You stole that piece of crap?”

“You can’t hot-wire a new model,” she said in affront. “They have chips and things. If I had taken a Lexus, I wouldn’t have gotten ten minutes down the road before getting busted by the cops.” Gratitude filled her, and she hesitated. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t said I’ll help yet.” He was moving again, and Peri hustled after him. “That’s my van,” he said, the vehicle flashing its lights when he pointed a fob at it.

She jogged to the passenger side. The no-windows thing it had going made her uneasy, and she hesitated, fingers on the handle. “What does your gut say?” she whispered, cold in the mist, and then in a flash of decision, she lifted the latch and got in, squirrel-rocks sliding.

Howard was already behind the wheel, coat in the back, key in the ignition, when she flopped into the seat. The van was cluttered with a mishmash of boxes. Peri tossed the shoebox to the floor with the rest and put her seat belt on.

Distracted, Howard said, “The fact that you trust me does not instill me with confidence.”

Peri nudged a take-out bag away from her foot. “My gut is usually right.” Something felt off, even though everything was going the way she wanted it to.

“So is mine,” he said, starting the van. “Go sit in the back and look at the door, princess, so I don’t have to knock you out, or cover your eyes, or anything else dumb like that.”

Seriously? But he wasn’t moving, and she finally undid her belt and picked her way awkwardly through the clutter until she sat on a pile of clean but frayed towels. They were for the animals, she guessed, and her bad feeling grew when he put the van in gear and crept to the entrance, brakes squeaking as he halted for traffic. “Where are we going?” she asked, not expecting an answer. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">