The words were choked off as he was yanked backward by the hood.
“You’re done,” said Smith.
“But—”
“Keep making a scene and I’ll call the cops.”
Smith was dragging him toward the front doors. Reece tried to dig in his heels and only succeed in tripping himself. “But—”
“I can handle him, Mr. Smith.”
Ohno.
It was Denton, the security guard who’d tried to throw him out of the building that afternoon and had nearly been fired.
“I just clocked out,” Denton said, staring Reece straight in the face with full recognition. “Harthan and Boone are still out on break and I’m sure you’re needed in here. Don’t waste your time on this kid. I’ll take him out with me.”
Smith snorted. “All yours,” he said, tossing Reece toward Denton and immediately turning away.
Reece stumbled forward. Denton dodged, very careful not to let any contact occur as Reece tried to find his footing. “After you,” Denton said, pointing at the front doors.
Reece slunk out the front doors with Denton right behind him, expecting to see the waiting police and worse, Grayson, this time with cuffs Reece wasn’t getting out of.
But there was no one outside. Instead, Denton motioned to the side of the building. “This way.” When Reece hesitated, he added, “I want to show you something.”
Reece furrowed his brow but tentatively followed Denton around the side of the building to the back side, with its loading bays and dumpsters. There were two doors set into the back of the building, one markedStaffand the other labeledNo Admittance, and wow, that did not make Reece feel better, a forbidden door in an anti-empathy facility.
“AMI of course doesn’t know this, but we’re having some issues with our security cameras tonight,” Denton said, as he came to a stop in front of theStaffdoor. “They’re out on several floors.” He pointed up, over the door. “This particular camera is broken. I noticed it not long ago.”
Reece shrank away. He hadn’t pegged Denton as violent, but Reece was shaken and upset and could have missed it. And he was nothing but a punching bag in a fight, not capable of swinging back—
But Denton just pointed at the staff door. “That’s the back entrance to the building, the one for maintenance staff and security. There’s a service elevator just inside, but you need a card to access it.”
He held up his card. “Mine lets me go everywhere but the roof.” He held it out toward Reece. “Shame I seem to have misplaced it.”
Reece stared at him. Then, he reached out and took the card, exceedingly careful not to touch Denton’s fingers with his own bare hand. “Why?”
“I put in my two weeks’ notice today.” Denton pointed at Reece. “You have a nice evening, sir.”
And he strode off, hands in his pockets and whistling.
The guard’s card worked like a dream in the service elevator. Reece took it up to the twenty-first floor, where the doors opened into a narrow hallway that led him to the same open bullpen space he’d been in just hours ago with Grayson and Whitman. The white floors, counters and walls nearly glowed under the low lighting, and the framed Stone Solutions advertisements on the wall seemed even bigger, and more ominous, in the night’s strange shadows.
What Else Don’t We Know About Empaths?
Reece ducked his head and kept walking.
There was nothing to hear but the hum of computers at the lab tables and the soft sound of his sneakers padding against the faux-wood floors as he made his way to Whitman’s new corner office on the opposite side of the floor. And sure enough, bright light was spilling out through the half-open door.
But as he approached, he could see into the space, and it was empty. Brow furrowed, he shouldered the office door all the way open.
The city lights of Bellevue glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the view of Mount Rainier lost to the night. Owens’ imposing furniture was gone too, the bookshelves replaced by a white divan and the desk replaced by a light and modern one, its surface bare save for a sleek laptop and a large white purse.
Despite the after-hours, deserted feel of the whole floor, which gave him the creeps, Whitman’s stuff was here. She had to be around somewhere.
He perched on her chair to wait, some kind of ergonomic contraption with no back that teetered precariously as he struggled to balance. He glared at the laptop: he’d bet anything a ton of answers were right here in front of him, but he needed a flesh-and-blood person to talk to, not a phone and definitely not a machine.
After a moment, he leaned forward and ran a finger over the keyboard, the plastic smooth and cool against his bare skin. The screen automatically lit up, prompting him for a password to unlock it. Not much chance of that; Whitman was one of Seattle’s top scientists while he could barely work a mouse. He could try toguessher password, but how could he? He’d only met her once. What did he even know about her?
