I don’t think he meant me to hear it, but I had an answer all the same. “I just got a little lost, but I’m finding my way back.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
WINDER
Adam gave us a part-time location, and nothing else. If his past was to be repeated, he would run and squeal to whoever he knew about our visit.
This wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I wanted Conrad to know we were onto him. I wanted him to know we weren’t afraid of him. Maybe I had been at one point, but not anymore. Part of me wondered if I had Blaire to thank for that.
The next morning, Blaire and I sat on my bed, bouncing ideas off one another.
“I’m guessing going to the police is completely off the table now?” Her voice was unsteady. The idea of the cops made her nervous, even today.
“I don’t know where Conrad has reach. I think for right now we’re on our own, at least until we can pin him for something solid. He’s sneaky that way. Besides, we have no proof he was the one who had you followed.”
“It’s all well and good barging into Circuit, guns blazing, but we don’t even know what we’re getting into. We’re working off assumptions.” Blaire curled her knees against her chest. “That memory I had of you was the first clear thing I’ve remembered in ages. I couldn’t tell you anything about the night he died thatsupposedly changed everything. I don’t remember Oliver at all. I don’t remember Conrad. I couldn’t tell you what I saw, or who I saw, or anything. Maybe Conrad has every righttocome after me.”
“Do you really think that?”
“No. But what if he has a good reason? I can’t remember anything, so maybe I did something really fucked up, you know, even before my… dreams.” She wanted me to tell her she was wrong. “Or maybe Oliver did?”
I didn’t even have to lie. “Blaire, I really doubt that. You’ve done some messed up things, but you’ve had your reasons for it. I can’t imagine you did anythingwithouta good reason. Remember, you both were undercover. You both were the good guys. We just have to figure out what Conrad knows that we don’t.”
She sighed, relaxing with my words. “Okay. But still. We can’t show up knowing nothing.”
“So we have to figure out how to get you to remember.”
“You sound like my psychiatrist.” She stuck her tongue out, and froze. “Wait.”
Blaire tapped her fingers on her knees, and I watched her think.
“There might be something…” she started.
“Tell me.”
“My psychiatrist was useless most of the time, which I understand now, but she did have me keep a dream journal. I wrote down everything I could remember from my dreams. I never bothered reading it back, because it was just a bunch of violent nonsense. But maybe you could make sense of the places, or the people.” A grimace crossed her face. “I know it’s not a lot, but…”
“No, I think that could work. That’s definitely something. Is it at your house?” I already plotted out how we could get thejournal as quickly as possible, because I knew Conrad had to have someone staking out her house.
Another frown. “Normally, yes. But I put it in my work bag to bring to my appointment, and then in the chaos of the day, I forgot my bag.”
Okay. Small hiccup. We could work with this. “Where is it then?”
“At work, under my desk.” Blaire’s eyebrows creased together.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Even if Conrad had someone posted at her work, they probably wouldn’t be there this early. I didn’t understand the problem, and was already heading for the door. When she didn’t follow, I turned to see her still sitting on the bed.
“Winder, I’m supposed to be sick. Should I really just be showing up at work with some random guy? What if they see I’m not actually sick?” Blaire twisted her hands in her lap.Fuck. Despite everything that had happened over the last few days, she was still worried about losing her goddamn job.
I crossed to crouch next to her. “Baby, it’s barely six in the morning. I doubt anyone is going to be at work except for security, and if they do see you, we can just explain you’re starting to get back on your feet, and want to start catching up on things. Right?”
The hand twisting stopped, and she nodded. “Right.”
When I rested my hand on her jaw, she leaned into my touch. “Let’s go.”
This time she followed me out the door, and into the early-morning fog.
