Page 8 of Harbinger

But I don’t find anything.

All she has are green Pottery Barn monstrosities she would call plates, gold-foiled wine glasses, and glassware that looks like they cost forty bucks a piece.

Rolling my eyes, I continue to the drawers, pulling them out one by one. I find the same as you’d expect. Random notes here and there, a bill or two tucked under tape and highlighters, a takeout menu, and a really impressive drawer full of fancy spices. One of the only really odd things was an entire spice jar full of saffron. How anyone could have so much, I have no idea. That must have cost a fortune.

There are some things that memory loss can’t take from you, and money insecurity is one of them. No matter how much money the agency gives us, I’ll never understand rich people. I don’t remember anything from the past, but I do enjoy the humor in knowing I was definitely poor.

“This hasn’t helped much,” I mutter, finally just grabbing a glass and filling it with tap water before leaning against the counter. I drink it in one go.

My phone buzzes again, and I set the glass down to check it.

You need to bring her in. Tomorrow.

A groan escapes me as I throw my head back. “That’s not what we talked about, Jer,” I whisper angrily as if she’s here with me.

What are you talking about? That wasn’t the plan.

Well, it’s the plan now. Get with it, get the information we need, and bring her in.

The very second she’s there, she’s going to shut down, and we won’t get a single thing out of her. She’s sassy. Just like you.

That sounds like a you problem. Deal with it. Get the information and bring her in. I want her here tomorrow.

I can’t begin to describe how much I loathe this situation.

You could say that my job requires a whole lot of acting. But never as much as it does right now. There’s so much riding on this one woman, and yet there’s nowhere I’d rather not be.

I need to figure out how to get as much information from Sydney as I possibly can before bringing her in. We probably won’t get any at all from her afterward. But it occurs to me that gaining her trust quickly will require me to actually be nice to her.

But how do I prove myself an ally in less than a day?

We’ll see, I guess.

Moving around the room, I check out her bookshelves. Almost all classics, but they’re all well-loved. A stack of movies sits by the TV, and some magazines are on the coffee table. A journal and colored pencils sit on a desk in the corner, and she has a couple plants lying about, though they mostly look dead.

Sydney’s door creeks open, and a small grey head peeks out. The second his big green eyes meet mine, a menacing hiss is sent my way.

Settling back on the couch, my glass of water next to me, I prop one of her pillows against the armrest, getting comfortable and allowing myself to drift to sleep.

FOUR

SYDNEY

The second I wake up,I thank God that the night before was a dream. Because it was a dream, right? That’s the only explanation.

There’s absolutely no way that all of that happened.

But the second I sit up and look around, I notice the door propped open, a blanket strewn over the couch haphazardly, and Shiloh nowhere to be found.

Getting up, I don’t even bother checking myself in the mirror. I know I’m wearing clothes and don’t owe anyone anything more than that. If someone’s in my house, they’ll have to be happy with this.

But what I don’t expect to see is Ronan, the man from the night before, at my stove, making bacon.

The meat sizzles in the pan, the smell wafting over me as I relax just a little. Sure, this means that last nightwasn’ta dream, but I almost feel more at peace knowing he’s here and not just a figment of my imagination. I don’t like the man. He’s rude and frustrating and could definitely be lying to me through his stupidly perfect teeth. But then again, maybe he’s not, and he’s really here to help me.

The funny thing about my parents and their job is that I’ll never know. Anyone that’s associated with them, anyone at all, could be here because they want to kill me or because they want to protect me. Or they could want to use me. I’ll never know which one.

There’s one reason I’ve stayed far, far away.

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