Page 27 of Good Half Gone

He can be a tough guy to work with, but the research he’s done on the effects of early trauma to the adult brain…well, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who knows more on the subject.I was life’s subject at the moment, but I didn’t say that; instead, I wholeheartedly agreed, and Professor Pratt did the hard work for me, cutting through the red tape and dropping me directly on Dr. Grayson’s desk. Leo Grayson was impressive if you were into that sort of thing.

“Iris?” We stop in front of an elevator.

Crede is annoyed. A crease appears across his forehead.

I’m embarrassed, I haven’t been paying attention.Don’t mess up, idiot.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was distracted by the books. I’m a nerd.”

Some of the stiffness leaves his face. “Oh, yeah?” His tone is different—lighter.

If books were the way to someone’s heart, I had the roadmap.

“I like the darker stuff,” I say. “Poe and Neil Gaiman.”

Crede grins. “A dark escapist!” His winter eyes are engaged and moony at my mention of Gaiman. I might be enjoying the conversation if I were planning on being friends with him.

He tells me about what he’s reading, and this time I make sure to pay attention. He’s a fantasy guy. I admit that I haven’t read any of his favorite books as we come to the end of our walk and stop in front of the security door.

“I probably have an extra copy lying around. I’ll bring it for you.”

“That would be great,” I say. The book sounds interesting despite the fact I haven’t found time to read for pleasure in the last few years. It makes me sad to acknowledge the fact that I don’t read anymore. It was once an integral part of my personality. Small things to give up, I remind myself. I am a mother, a granddaughter, and a super sleuth. I am good at research—definitely not half-bad at planning. I am here, aren’t I?

Crede tells me he reads a hundred books a year, most of them on the ferry going to and from work.

“How long have you worked here?”

“A year,” he says. There is finality in his tone—he is done talking about himself. But I am not done. I need allies, even if it’s this grouchy baby/man with the silver hair.

“How did you get the job? I mean, it’s not exactly easy to get a position here.”

“Dr. Grayson scouted me at a work fair in Miami, moved me out here for the job,and here we are. What?” he says, looking at my face.

“Nothing.” I wasn’t quick enough to sweep my expression. God, I need to get better at that. He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me.

“It’s just… I heard Dr. Grayson was a recluse.”

Crede looks bewildered, and then his face grows red.

“It wasn’t him personally, someone from the hospital came out to recruit…”

“Ah,” I say. We pass an elevator with a no service sign duct-taped over the call button.

I change the subject as we close the square and near the end of our second-floor tour.

“Did you know anyone out here when you came?”

“Are you always this nosy?”

“Pretty much.”

He snorts. “I didn’t want to. I’d just broken up with my fiancée when I went to that job fair. I was looking for a way out of there. We call this highway to hell, by the way.” He nods to the staircase. “And this…” he motions to an ugly metal security door “…is the dark side. Y2K doesn’t like it when we call it that, but hey…”

I feel a trickle of excitement crawl up my back and rest in the nape of my neck like a hot hand.

I like that. Hopefully at the end of the highway and on the other side is a man who can give me the answers I need about my sister.

“Behind those doors, everything changes. You read the manual?”

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