Marcus had her brought to the terrace. She sat across from him in a damp jacket and said nothing. Most people filled every silence with reassurance. She offered neither. “Where are you staying?” he asked. “Nowhere permanent.” “What are you?” “Observant,” she said cryptically. He gave her twenty-four hours.
He ran her through every database Priya had access to that night. No criminal record. No social media. No property, no vehicle, no employment beyond eighteen months ago. Before that: a single academic record from the Whitmore Institute in Vermont, a private facility in animal cognition. Two years in.