Page 13 of Fire and Bones

More typing.

“No.”

An eight-hour drive that should have taken six. No holiday with Ryan. No room. No Thacker.

The tripwire in my brain tightened.

I took a deep breath.

It wasn’t H. Cho’s fault.

I opened my mouth to express my displeasure.

“Dr. Brennan.” Breathless.

I turned.

The person rushing toward me was not who I expected.

CHAPTER 3

The woman looked like an ad for Paris Fashion Week. Standing maybe six feet tall and weighing no more than one-fifty, she had high cheekbones and short black hair gelled straight back from her face.

“Dr. Brennan.” Fashion Week extended a hand. “I’m Jada Thacker.”

We shook, moi hoping I was hiding my surprise.

Apparently, I wasn’t.

“I know.” Thacker smiled broadly. “I’ve dropped a few pounds since that meeting in Seattle.”

“Such a long time ago.” Too flummoxed to summon a wittier response.

“My apologies for being late. Something came up as I was leaving the office.”

“Of course.”

“All set here?”

“Actually, no. The gentleman can’t find a reservation for me.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

H. Cho, who’d been following our conversation, perked up when the attention shifted to him.

“We’re fully booked, ma’am. The lady’s name isn’t in the system.”

“The doctor has come to DC to assist with the recovery effort at the Foggy Bottom fire. She’s just finished a very long drive and would undoubtedly like to freshen up. Surely, we can resolve this quickly.”

H. Cho raised both palms in a “what can I do” gesture.

Thacker turned to me, smile now a bit strained. “Please have a seat while I straighten this out.”

I nodded, crossed to one of the yellow sofas, and dropped. Snugging the rollaboard to my knees, I looked around.

The lobby was slowly filling with patrons. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed them when I’d arrived.

Across from me, a couple in matching stars-and-stripes sweatshirts studied a tourist brochure and seemed to agree on nothing. A teen slumped boneless in a chair to their right, working patterns on the armrest with one fingertip.

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