“And although you have detailed records, releases, and transcripts from all of your other sources, there is nothing that references Shadowman.” His gaze fixed on her face. “Who is the source?”
Talia kept silent, staring right back at him and concentrating on moving air in and out of her lungs. If he knew so much already, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him more.
He dropped his head for a moment, then raised it again with strain tugging at his eyes. “Okay, let’s set that question aside for the moment. Give you a chance to get set up in your own lab and look over your research. There’s something else, too. I’d wait until you were fully on your feet to discuss this with you, but I am a big fan of putting all the cards on the table. Your lab tests came back with some interesting results, off the wall, but strangely consistent with similar tests taken—and disregarded—after the near-fatal car accident you were in ten years ago.”
Lab tests. Of course. Lab tests wouldn’t lie. Lab tests would reveal abnormalities. Hadn’t Aunt Maggie warned her about doctors years ago?
“And you’ve got a reflex, I think linked to fear, that affects the immediate environment, as a chameleon blends into the bark of a tree, but opposite.” He smiled, tilting his head. As if any of this warranted levity. “The flight from Arizona was especially exciting. I’m guessing your gift played a significant part in eluding the wraiths for so long.” He paused again, then speared her with his gaze. “What are you?”
If he wanted an answer, he wasn’t going to get one. He was peeling away her skin to expose her quivering core to the frigid room.
He sighed heavily; his intensity dropped. “Dr. O’Brien, I’ve been at this a while now. I’ve seen some unusual things. I mean you no harm. You saved me in that alley just as much as I saved you. I think we could make good partners, if you’d allow it.”
Good partners. Who was he kidding? He wanted to get inside her head. Study her.
“The offer of a position here at Segue is open. You’d get your own offices, whatever you require. There are three apart-ments upstairs you can choose from. West wing is haunted, so if you value your sleep, perhaps stick to the ones in the east wing, although they overlook the parking lot.”
Haunted?
“I’d like to say the staff here is friendly—Dr. Riggs is certainly a sweetheart—but the subject matter we research tends to draw an interesting crowd. Don’t take anything personally until you get to know them, and even then…” He raised his hands in a shrug, then pushed himself to standing.
“Dr. Riggs will discharge you from her care, eh, probably later this afternoon.”
And then what?
“I’ll drop back by to answer your questions, give you a tour, and help you select that apartment. Until then, get some rest.”
Adam stared down at her for a moment, waiting. “See you later then,” he said, turning back to the door.
He’d crossed the room before a good question finally burned through Talia’s consciousness.
“Wait,” she called.
He turned back, expectant.
“What if I don’t want to stay? What if I’d rather take my chances with the wraiths?” If that snooping bastard was going to “put all his cards on the table,” he had damn well better flip that last one over.
He held her gaze. “I don’t think that would be in either of our best interests.”
FIVE
THAT went well.
Take a traumatized and ill woman, tell her you know she’s a freak, invite her to come on staff, and then insinuate that she has no choice. Excellent work.
Bracing himself on the corridor wall outside Patty’s lab, Adam brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Idiotic, more like.
He pictured Talia, IV stringing from her arm, wrapped in a clumsy robe, her pale, shocked face draining of color with every word he uttered. There was so little color to her in the first place, what with her white-blonde hair and black eyes. Only her lips retained a hint of pink.
To stay and work at Segue made much better sense on all fronts. For such an intelligent woman, that conclusion shouldn’t be difficult to reach. Unless, of course, you’re sick and scared to begin with.
“Have you slept?”
Patty. Adam dropped his arms and turned in the direction of her voice.
Patty stood just outside the door to her lab, hands on her hips, penny loafer tapping, mouth pinched in motherly concern. Her gray roots contrasted sharply with her fading brown hair, which he knew she hated, but couldn’t be helped. Her every-eight-weeks trip to Middleton’s only beauty salon had to wait until Talia was stable and settled. Not that Patty had asked.
“Yes, thanks.” At some point in his life he had slept. He didn’t need her on his back about it right now. The day was already halfway to hell.
“She looked beat,” he said, angling his head toward Patty’s lab and changing the subject.