Ten seconds later Benson touches my shoulder and I almost jump out of my skin. “Sorry,” he says, but there’s a question in his voice when he sees my reaction.

“I’m okay,” I say, trying to whisper. “I promise, I’m good now.”

After studying me for a moment Benson sits down again and places a large reference book on top of his desk. “I saw him,” he says quietly as he riffles through the pages, pretending to show me something. “I think you should head home.”

“Home? Why?”

“It’s close enough to walk and probably safer than here.” He glances back out at the library over the rim of his glasses. “Reese is gone, right? I’ll find a way to distract this guy, then I’ll meet you there. It’ll be just the two of us and we’ll talk about everything we know and figure something out.”

“What if he’s dangerous? He could hurt you.”

Benson laughs wryly. “He’s in a government building—trust me, he doesn’t want to cause trouble here. Besides, he already knows how to find you. This is just a temporary fix so we can buy some time.”

I nod hesitantly. “Okay. But you’ll come after me, right?”

The only thing more intense than Benson’s whisper is his steady blue-eyed gaze. “I’ll always come for you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I check the gap in the curtains for about the hundredth time—Benson still isn’t here. I collapse against the sofa, pulling the throw blanket off and wrapping it around me as if it might somehow protect me. I’ve stripped off my wet hoodie and toweled my hair, but violent shivers rack my body and I don’t think they have anything to do with the temperature. I close my eyes, wishing things were as simple as when I was a little girl.

And my parents were alive.

And I was a promising young artist.

And there was no one following me.

And I didn’t have weird powers that I don’t know how to control and strange visions that can’t be unexplained.

Mostly that.

A light tapping on the door makes my eyes snap open, and I get tangled in the blanket and slam my knee against the coffee table. Benson slips in the second there’s enough room and pushes the door shut behind him.

“I’m pretty sure I lost him. You were right, by the way. You left and five seconds later he was up and out of his chair, ready to follow.”

Then he sees my face, the blanket all crumpled up on the floor, and the crooked table.

“Oh, Tave, it’ll be okay,” he says, pulling me into his arms. And even though I know he must be able to feel me shaking, I’m too tired to be embarrassed. His face is nuzzled against my neck and it’s the only source of warmth I can detect in my entire body. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” he whispers, his lips brushing my sensitive skin. “It’s more than any one person deserves. Especially you.”

I let myself stand there for a moment, leaning on him, borrowing his strength until I can find my own again. Just for a second. Two. Three. “How’d you get rid of him?” I finally choke out.

“Spilled coffee on him, actually,” Benson says. “Marie agreed to help. Fussed over him while I took off.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “I don’t know how much time it will really buy us, but it got me here without him on my trail.”

“Is your car out front?”

“I walked—okay, I kinda jogged. It’s not that far.”

I laugh. Not heartily; it’s a weary laugh. But at least I still can.

“Okay,” Benson says. “So tell me what happened this morning with Elizabeth.”

“Nothing,” I say, suppressing the urge to squirm as I completely avoid talking about my run-in with Quinn. “Tell no one” echoes loudly in my head. “I lied, she lied; it was pretty much what I expected.”

“But when you came out, this guy with the sunglasses was waiting for you?”

I nod and remember that today also brought with it the tall man who disappeared, but my head starts to ache at the thought and I can’t bring myself to mention him. Not yet. “He’s got to know what I can do—it doesn’t make any sense otherwise.” Out of nowhere, my stomach rumbles. “Are you hungry?” I ask, sliding from Benson’s grasp and heading into the kitchen.

“No,” Benson says, but he follows me anyway.

“Well, I’m starving,” I mutter, grabbing at snack food I usually never touch: a carton of Reese’s yogurt, a container of sliced pineapple, a package of Genoa salami. I don’t even know what Genoa salami is, but I’m going to eat it.

“Do you think this guy is who Reese and Jay are hiding me from?” I ask as I open the various packaging.

“It’s possible.” He doesn’t meet my eyes, and I think it’s because he doesn’t want me to see the fear in his face.

“Well, it’s been nice knowing you, Benson.” I say the words mockingly, but there’s an icy edge to them—an unfamiliar bitterness that I don’t like in myself.

“Hey.” Benson’s soft blue eyes are looking at me again. “Just because you have a tail doesn’t mean you’re about to die. I mean, he hasn’t actually tried to do anything to you yet, right?”

I shrug noncommittally.

Benson purses his lips, then leans forward on his elbows. “So let’s assume this guy does know that you can make stuff—and I think you’re right that he does,” he adds, before I can defend my theory. “Do you think Reese and Jay know? Elizabeth? Your doctors? Just how far into The Truman Show do you think this all goes?”