“It was the last flight of the year. Everyone at Shackleton was trying to get that bird off the ground while conditions were good. Whoever you think you saw could’ve simply been one of a hundred different people trying to meet a deadline. You yourself were pulled in about a dozen different directions that day, correct?”
Cass put a hand to her head, then winced at the contact with the miniature puncture wounds. They weren’t running to do something. They were running away from something, from me . Was the runner the same person who had been in the tunnel yesterday, whispering her name? She opened her eyes to suggest that, then stopped.
Leaning backwards, Hanratty had reached a long arm out to a counter behind his chair. Stacks of folders lined the surface. He fished through the tallest pile, found what he was looking for, then straightened up, his chair making a creaking noise. Taking his time, he leafed through the dossier. Sheets of colored paper—white, pink, and green—lay in the folder like stripes of candy. Cass gripped the arms of her chair, all thoughts of continuing the discussion about the mysterious runner gone. She knew what was coming.
“You had an unfortunate accident several years ago, I understand.”
“Yes.” Her voice jumped and she had to take a second to get it back under control. But as she spoke, it climbed the scale again. “I put that behind me, I passed the tests, I’ve paid. Goddammit, I’ve paid every day and every night since that happened.”
“Jennings—”
“Don’t.” She skewered him with a finger. “Don’t you fucking dare. If you had a problem with my fitness to be here, you had plenty of time to review my file. I didn’t imagine what happened to me yesterday in that tunnel. My history doesn’t change that. I’m fit for the position and I’m more than mentally stable enough to remember when I’ve almost been attacked .”
His eyes so blank they might’ve been glass, Hanratty stared at her. “Jennings, I’m responsible for the lives of forty-four people on this base. Every one of them is important, their well-being paramount.”
“Then do your job and support me.”
Hanratty gently closed the folder. “I’m doing my job by questioning the veracity of what appears on the surface to be an outlandish claim. Can you see where I’m coming from?”
She said nothing.
“I’m glad we have an accord,” he said drily. “Now. I’ve officially heard your complaint. I’ll ask Deb to look into this. She may ask you to take her down to the tunnels and walk her through the . . . incident. Is that satisfactory?”
“Yes.” It was the best she could expect.
“I’m obligated to ask if you’d like to see Dr. Keene about this incident. Would you?”
“No.”
“You understand, also, that I have to tell him about this event. He may take the initiative to speak to you. Keene is allowed to conduct psych investigations that are beyond my purview to control. You can refuse to speak to him, but I don’t think that would be . . . wise.”
She closed her eyes, opened them, nodded.
He stopped speaking, as if considering something, then, “I would also ask you to keep this to yourself. Not to cover anything up. But let’s consider this from an extreme range of possibilities. On one hand, it could be a prank by somebody with a sick sense of humor, in which case making it public will just encourage them to do it again. Somebody will get stabbed eventually if he or she doesn’t stop.”
“And at the other end?”
He shrugged. “If someone was preparing to attack you, making it public knowledge would not only encourage them, it would tip them off that we’re watching.”
Cass felt something unclench inside her chest. Was this lip service? Or a modest effort to help her? Examining Hanratty’s face, it was impossible to tell. Residual aggravation from his early questions and the nagging sense he was just patronizing her still hung in the air, but at least he wasn’t throwing her out of his office.
“Is there anything else?” His tone indicated he didn’t think so.
“No.” She stood and had walked to the door when he stopped her.
“Jennings.”
She turned, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He waited until she’d raised her eyes to his. His face, normally severe, showed sympathy.
“You won’t believe it, but I’m on your side. More than you know.”
Cass had nothing to say. He nodded once, though, as if she had, and bent his head to look over a report open on his desk, dismissing her. As she left, she saw him reach for a single, white piece of paper from a stack on the corner of his desk.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cass looked out the narrow window, trying to imagine a world without light.