Page 16 of Silent Target

She hasn’t asked if I know what I’m doing.

Most people fill silence because it frightens them.

Evie uses it to think.

She watches the street through the windshield, memorizing every parked car, dark window, and possible exit.

I notice the faint pulse beating at the base of her throat.

She’s afraid.

She’s simply refusing to let fear make her careless.

“You can stay in the vehicle,” I tell her.

She turns toward me. “No.”

“The house may not be clear.”

“Then you should clear it.”

I look at her.

She doesn’t flinch.

“You’re very demanding for someone I pulled out of a parking garage.”

“You were late.”

I almost smile.

I’m beginning to suspect she’s going to keep reminding me of that.

“Lock the doors behind me.”

I reach for the handle.

“Wait.”

Her hand closes around my forearm.

The contact is brief.

It shouldn’t register.

It does.

She removes the recorder from her bag and holds it out. “You should take this.”

“The recording?”

“One copy of it.”

My gaze meets hers. “How many copies are there?”

“Two.”

“Where’s the other one?”