She didn’t stop until she reached the staff lounge again, where Peter was seated, sipping a soda and half-scanning the evening duty schedule. She nearly collapsed into him. “Emily!” Peter sprang to his feet, alarmed. “What happened?” “It’s him, Peter,” she panted.
“Luke. He’s here. He’s alive. I saw him, and he was with another woman. And he said his name is George, but it’s him. I swear to you, it’s him.” Peter held her shoulders. “Emily, slow down—” “I’m not making this up,” she said, her voice firm, though her face was crumbling. “You have to come with me. Just look at him, and then tell me I’m wrong.”