Thoughts of electricity and hot acid float through my head and I try not to dwell on them—surely she wouldn’t.

But then, what the hell do I know about what Elizabeth would and wouldn’t do?

I fight the urge to run out of the office as her words echo through my head. I don’t know how to convince you that all I want is for you to be okay. You used to believe that.

Am I so gullible that I believe everything I hear?

Maybe.

As I step out from under the awning in front of the office building—it’s raining again, of course—I pull my hood up against the wind and the drizzling mist, blocking out my peripheral vision. I almost miss the guy standing on the northern corner of the parking lot.

I’d have ignored him entirely if I didn’t—even in my panic-driven haze—recognize him.

Recognize his sunglasses.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Fear courses through me and I avoid looking at him and start walking toward the library.

When I catch sight of him again, he’s walking casually, a good block back, but it’s the second turn he’s followed me around. His black pullover—almost identical to my own—blends in with the sparse foot traffic, but it’s not hard to pick him out.

Still. I don’t want to be paranoid. There is the slightest of possibilities that we just happen to be going the same place.

Twice.

In the same morning.

I hesitate and then turn left instead of right—it’ll only extend my walk by a couple of blocks, but I don’t want to lead him straight to the library.

My steps slow as I approach the first corner on my new route and I sneak a peek behind me. I don’t see him yet.

Slower.

Slower.

Angling to the right, I glance up the sidewalk from beneath my lashes. Just as I’m about to step out of sight he comes around the corner, his eyes darting about. I snap my face away and begin power-walking again.

Terror ratchets through my legs, tingling in my toes, and I wonder briefly if it was a really bad idea to slow down enough to see him, if I should have gone with my gut and made my escape while I had a chance.

Problem is, I don’t trust my gut anymore. It was wrong about Reese, it was wrong about Elizabeth.

And while I wasn’t exactly wrong about Benson, I apparently was misreading him.

And I don’t even know where my gut stands with Quinn.

But now that I’m sure this guy is following me, I want to hide. Flee. Or maybe … to do something. It’s an instinct I don’t recognize as my own—or maybe just one I’d forgotten, after months of helplessness in a hospital bed and further months of painstakingly gradual recovery. Regardless, it’s unmistakable now. Do something.

But what?

Make something, I finally realize, identifying the unfamiliar urge. But I reject the possibility. No. Not a chance.

I duck into the doorway of a colorful candy shop, hoping to maybe lose Sunglasses Guy that way. After a minute or so a very tall man walks past the door going the opposite direction I had been walking and I decide to fall into step just behind him, use him as a human shield. I’ll follow him to the end of the block, then double back on another street.

I stall, pretending to mess with the zipper on my backpack, then edge into the crowd so close behind him that I almost step on the heels of his shoes. Even with his head hunched down and the way he pulls his coat around him like he’s tired—or sick, maybe—the man is huge and makes me feel safe and hidden.

Until he flickers.

Just like that lady the day I ran into the wall.

I draw in a loud breath but manage to keep walking. I glance around me, but no one else seems to have noticed. I look at the tall man again, his back broad and solid. He’s still hiding me.

I squint, focusing on him, waiting for it to happen again.

But I don’t expect him to disappear entirely.

I stop walking and someone plows right into me, making me stagger forward.

“Watch it,” the woman says, hardly glancing back as she and her boyfriend step aside and keep walking.

I whip around. No one else even pauses.

They didn’t see him disappear? But he was really tall—and now it’s like he was never even here. Like he blinked out of existence.

I tighten my fists over my backpack straps and face forward, trying to walk evenly—I have to get to Benson, I think. He’ll help. Good sense manages to pierce through my panic and I begin counting so my limp doesn’t make me conspicuous.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

I’ve completely lost sight of my tail, and I don’t dare look around to check.

I’m about two blocks from the library when the sky bursts open and starts really pouring on me. “Wonderful,” I mutter under my breath. “Just fan-freaking-tabulous.”

I’m soaked in seconds—as if the world seriously wants to spite me—but I can see the library now and it looks like a sanctuary. I know it’s not, not really—Sunglasses Guy can go in there too.

But Benson is inside and he makes me feel safe.

Nervous sweat trickles down my back as I reach the stairs and adrenaline fuels my steps. I pull the entrance door too hard and it clatters against the wall behind it, earning me the attention of every library patron within earshot.

Great.

I’m soaked to the bone as I step into the warm lobby, wishing I didn’t look quite so bedraggled. Benson is by my side before I can take more than about three steps and I want to throw my arms around him, hold myself against his chest until the trembling stops.