Page 18 of Journey

“‘Fraid not,” he says. “Serving a life sentence, though.”

“Not good enough.”

“No, it’s not, but that’s the justice system for ya.”

Shaking my head, I try to process what he’s told me so far. Just when I think I’ve seen the worst of humanity, humanity decides to pop back for an encore.

“Okay, Wren had a worse than shitty childhood,” I say. “But that still doesn’t explain her behavior at Ballinger’s.”

“I’m getting to that,” Tracer informs me.

“Fuck, there’s more?”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah.”

Shoving a hand through my hair, I swing my feet to the floor and lean forward. “What else could there possibly be?”

Tracer glances at his computer and taps his mouse a few times before his printer starts spitting out papers. It takes a few minutes for everything to print, and he watches me warily as it does.

“Here,” he says as he hands me a stack. “I think you should read these on your own.”

Taking the pages of information, I maintain eye contact with him, almost as if looking at the words will suck me into another dimension.

Parking in the lot across the street from Ballinger’s, my brain locks onto the one line in the massive amount of mental health jargon I read about Wren: Patient has been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, and the presence of thirteen alters have been observed.

Music filters out through the open door of the bar, and I let it overtake my thoughts. When I step inside, I immediately seek out Wren. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for my eyes to land on her, and she’s standing at the bar with her friend, Leah, and Jackyl.

As if we’re connected by an invisible tether, Wren’s gaze shifts, and her eyes widen. I assume that means it’s really her because there’s recognition in her expression.

I cross the room, weaving my way through small groups of people, and when I reach her, I smile. Finally registering my presence, Jackyl glances at me and opens his mouth to say something, but Wren beats him to the punch.

“Journey.”

Relief floods my system.

It is her.

“Hi, Wren.”

CHAPTER 10

WREN

Right now, under his scrutiny, fear becomes real.

“It is Wren, right?”

Leah elbows me in the side, stunning me out of my stupor. It’s been a while since I saw Journey, and I was beginning to think I imagined the entire night with him.

“Yep. Wren.”

Journey grins devilishly. “I don’t remember you being this… shy.”

“I’m surprised you remember me at all,” I counter, my tone harsher than I intend.

His grin slips, but only for a moment. “Really? Because last time we ran into each other, you drew a complete blank when it came to me.”

Last time we ran into each other?

---