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That’s when I’d been bludgeoned.
My heart raced, stabbing in the center of my chest. My lungs clenched. I’d been standing right here when I’d lost my identity and nearly my life.
“Hey, man, wicked eye brows.” The relaxed voice ripped me from my head and grounded me to the present.
This was the first person to speak to me on my excursion, the first to interact with me in any way. And he hadn’t appeared until I’d returned to where I’d been when I’d been working as a spy.
I turned slowly toward the man. He had a trucker’s hat, a huge beard, and a friendly smile. For the moment, he didn’t appear to be a threat.
I said, “Thank you.”
He stared too long at my face, his eyes crinkling.
Did he recognize me as the victim of the accident? Was he unsure how to react to a stranger with a mangled face? Or was this attention because he was the one person I was supposed to avoid? Was he the other spy, here hunting me?
He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, “You heard about theaccident,huh? Looking for blood? They already washed that all away.”
He didn’t recognize me. The tension drained from my shoulders.
Casually, I asked, “Did you see it happen?”
“No, but I saw pictures.”
He pulled out his phone and flipped through images of me lying on the ground, then of paramedics loading me onto a stretcher. None of the images showed any blood.
“People are saying it’s a stunt to promote the network’s newest show,” he said. “Some kind of hoax.”
“You believe that?”
“I don’t believe anything.” He pointed to his t-shirt, where the wordsQuestion Everythingwere written in a Halloween-esque font.
“I see.”
“Check out the site, you’ll find the real truth.” He shoved a business card to my chest.
When I took it, he walked away, looking way too pleased with himself.
FOURTEEN
MORGAN
Entering the studio, dread filled my chest. That feeling only grew bigger and stronger with every person who approached me. It was like a massive sea monster was crushing my ribs, while its spiky tentacles crept and stabbed their way throughout my body. I couldn’t get this over with fast enough. As soon as I’d signed all of the paperwork, I made a run for it. Layana could fend for herself.
Exiting the building didn’t make me feel any better, though. The pressure on my chest only grew more crushing. Now that I was actually going to be on TV, I knew that feeling wasn’t going to go away any time soon.
As I approached my car, my worry for Tristan muddled my thoughts about my own problems. And only as I made out the shape of him in the back seat did I realize I’d been more worried for him than I had been for myself.
Was he okay? Had he found any clues that could help him reclaim his life?
I hurried to the passenger seat and climbed in with a bright smile, trying to exude positive energy for what I hoped would be his good fortune.
Then I saw his face.
He was frowning at Miso, hard. His hair was mussed up, and he had what looked like big black caterpillars taped to his eyebrows.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “What’s going on with your face?”
He pried his scowl from the weasel, and turned it on me. “It’s a disguise.”
