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"Don't sound so hopeful, Martinez."

His mouth curves.

"See you around, Hart."

Emma and I head toward the parking area. Halfway there, I look back. Javier is already walking toward one of the greenhouses, Atlas beside him. He stops to speak to Cole, points toward one of the fields, then continues.

I think about everything he told me. Everything he knows. The way he talks about this place as though every person and every program matters because they do.

I came here to understand something about Lily. I do. A little.

But I'm leaving with questions about Javier Martinez too. Not the kind I expected.

And somehow, those feel considerably more dangerous.

Chapter Seven

Madison

By my third visit to Oakridge Veterans Farm, I have learned three things. One, boots are not optional. Two, Moose's capacity for drool has no known limit. And three, Emma Whitaker is entirely too pleased with herself.

"You're getting better," she says.

I tighten my hold on Daisy's leash as the golden retriever attempts to climb onto the examination table without waiting for assistance.

"At what?"

"Farm."

"That's not a skill."

"Tell that to your new boots."

I look down at them. They're brown, practical, and purchased yesterday after I spent twenty minutes trying to remove something from my sneakers that Emma refused to identify.

"I learn from my mistakes."

"So I've heard."

"Who have you been talking to?"

She smiles and reaches for her stethoscope.

"Small town."

"That isn't an answer."

"In Oakridge, it is."

Daisy chooses that moment to lick my wrist. I sigh.

"You and Moose are conspiring against me."

Her tail wags. Emma laughs.

We've been here for more than an hour, and I haven't seen Martinez. Not that I've been looking. I haven't. I've simply noticed his absence. There is a difference. Probably.

Emma finishes with Daisy and checks something on her tablet.