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I slide onto the stool as he opens a cabinet and removes two plain white mugs, then steps to the stove and picks up an already steaming kettle.
“Did anything new come up while I was in the shower?”
“Nothing concrete. Based on the location of the labs your sister worked for, we suspect she was conducting ethically gray research.” Steam rises from the mugs as he pours the hot water. “Origins Laboratories is a relatively new business entity. We’re looking into who was funding them. Trying to uncover any connections. Which is why anything you can remember, any names, any piece of information could be helpful.”
“Sloane wouldn’t do anything illegal.” But after she disappeared, my imagination went wild. “It’s possible she discovered something. If she did, she’d threaten to turn them in. Sloane refused to drive above the speed limit. She’s big on rules. She isn’t someone who could be convinced to break the law.” He slides a mug over to me, along with a squeezable bottle of honey. “I’ve read about research studies that went belly up because of transgressions. One of my theories is that she discovered something and they’re trying to prevent her from being a whistleblower.” Slowly, I stir the tea bag in the hot water. “But I don’t like that theory, because I don’t see why they’d keep her alive.”
“Tell me about these transgressions.”
“Oh, I mean things like admitting people into the study who shouldn’t be admitted. Or selectively choosing which patients get the placebo. That kind of thing. And truthfully, I don’t even know if it’s applicable to what Sloane was doing. I know that one of the big questions with Rapamycin, for example, is what the ideal dosage would be for someone taking it for longevity purposes. Not for organ rejection, but just for, you know, anti-aging. The drug suppresses the immune system, so it’s a fine line to walk. But it’s kind of hard to imagine an anti-wrinkle solution as being whistleblower worthy.”
He raps his knuckles against the counter. “We’re not going to figure it out tonight.”
“My sister is still alive.”
I can’t allow him to believe she isn’t. No one believes Sam is alive, and I live with that. I can’t be the only one who believes Sloane is.
“Has she contacted you?”
“No. I can feel it.” Rather than take in his reaction to my explanation, I pick up my mug and enter the small den. If forced to explain, I’ll sound crazy. Or wishful. But I knew when my father died. I felt it in my chest and went to his house and found him. Deep in my chest cavity, I felt the moment his life ended. It was the same with my mom. Admittedly, I’d been sitting by her side, holding her hand. But I hadn’t been with my dad. It’s the reason I know Sam is still alive, and so is Sloane.
“Tell me about Asheville. You like it there?” The sofa cushions sink with our weight as we each take our places on opposite sides of the sofa.
“I do. Have you ever been?”
“Nope. But I’ve heard good things.”
“It’s pretty great. Lots of artists…glassblowers, painters, pottery makers, chocolatiers…all kinds.” Small businesses thrive throughout the downtown area. “Very entrepreneurial.” Knox smiles with his eyes. The tortoise rim glasses set off his familiar, warm, honey-brown irises. He’s probably the most handsome man I’ve ever been around. “I like those glasses.”
He lifts them, rubbing one eye with the butt of his hand. “Forgot I was wearing ’em.”
“It’s a good look.”
He holds the frames out, looking them over before setting them onto the coffee table. Millie lifts her head from where she’s sprawled out on the floor, decides they aren’t food, and lies back down.
“Vision isn’t what it used to be. Wearing those glasses when I’m on the computer is supposed to help.”
“Have you thought about Lasik? Does the military approve of Lasik?”
“I had Lasik. About five years ago. My vision’s still pretty good. Those glasses help with eye strain. If you’re wondering why I left the Navy,” he side-eyes me and sucks in the side of his bottom lip, giving me a thoughtful half-smile, “it wasn’t vision. It’s not like that these days. Maybe for pilots, but… no, my hearing took a beating.”
“They have hearing aids, though.”
“What if one gets knocked out while we’re on a mission? Docs said it might improve, but it didn’t. Just as well. I’m thirty-five, pushing thirty-six. Joints have taken a beating. Nothing too bad. Still active. Still working. But…the things we do. Did. It’s better I move on than be the team’s weak link.”
Not when other lives depend on him. I understand. Sam shared some of what they do.
“Sam said they take body and soul.”
“Body, I’ll grant you. Soul…if they take that, then you’ve stayed in too long.”
“That’s a good way of looking at it.”
“I got to do what I wanted. Had a good run to the top. For a while, it felt like winning every day. I was good at it, you know? But there comes a time when transition is necessary.”
“And so now…what exactly do you do? You went to what Sam called the privates? A security company?”
“The privates.” The nostalgic grin has me smiling, too. “Yeah, we didn’t talk too kindly about the privates. But this one’s a good one. After I took a medical discharge, an officer recommended I reach out to them. Arrow Tactical Security. Best phone call I ever made. Ryan, he’s one of the founders, came down and met with me. Hired me on the spot. Better pay and benefits than the Navy. And they really care about our health. There’s this guy, Trevor, another one of the partners. He works with us, mindful of injuries. Keeps us healthy.”
