Isaac’s eyes are filled with concern for me as I stare at the piece of paper before tossing it on the ground.

“What…?” he begins to ask but I can’t be bothered to answer the question hiding behind that one word. For the first time in my post-coma life, I have something to hold onto!

“Those bugs you showed me… they triggered something. I remember something.”

My voice is intense as I start pacing the room, my mind going a mile a minute, desperately clinging to the facts that are pouring in. The bugs are familiar but they’re not something from within my amnesia. I had an old Engineering professor who taught us all about these.”

I turn to look at Isaac, and he looks endearingly concerned. He probably should be. I’m sure I look like a mad woman.

“He was an ex-CIA agent. Taught us how they operate, how they use bugs to monitor suspects. The bugs he showed me looked exactly like the ones in your hand.”

“Can you remember any more then, while we’re currently in the dark ages?”

I wrack my brain, trying to glean every detail I can remember. I stop then, closing my eyes and pressing my fingers against my temples. A headache threatens the back of my skull but I don’t care. Let my head explode, if it means I get an answer before it does.

“Wallace. That was his name. Professor Wallace. He’s probably not at the university anymore. He could barely hold onto that job… He was crazy paranoid.”

“Paranoid? Gee, I can’t possibly imagine why,” Isaac says, and I almost chuckle.

Really this whole thing would be insanely funny if it wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to me in my entire life. I nod, my lip twitching just a fraction.

“Yes, well. The class was a huge hit. I begged Preston, my editor, to let me write a piece on Wallace. I did all the research for it but in the end, he said Gareth held rank with more experience and he gave the byline to him.”

“You don’t write your own stuff? I thought you were a journalist.”

My cheeks color at that comment, and I can’t help the bit of spite that leaks out with my answer. “I am a journalist. I just haven’t earned my own byline yet. I’ve been researching in the trenches, which is a big part of why Gareth and I spent so much time together. I checked the research; he wrote the stories. I’ve written my own piece here and there but I’ve wanted a regular spot in the paper for ages. I was on my way to earning it before the accident.”

Isaac stares at me, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. I don’t have time to dwell on it. We need answers, and I bet Juice is the one to get them for us.

“If we can find him, we might be able to track down who bugged your apartment. Did you destroy every last one of them?”

Isaac shrugs. “I’m sure even if I did, your place is just crawling with more.”

I nod, picking up the coded paper and taking a step toward the front door. “We have to find Wallace. He’s the only person I know of who can help us find a lead to the person who did this.”

“Okay, great. Where is he?”

I was dreading that question. My shoulders slump.

“I don’t know. They guy’s a paranoid ex-CIA agent, remember? He could be anywhere. He might not even go by the name Wallace anymore.”

We stand in silence, hit with our first dead end before I snap my fingers.

“But I know where information about him is stored. This story didn’t come out that long ago. Chances are he could have the same information, if we can find it. There’s a file back at the Tribune.”

Isaac nods, seeing where I’m going. “To the Tribune we go then?”

I nod. “Great. I’m driving.”

He disappears, and his footsteps are loud and clear as he pounds back up the stairs, opening his door and quickly closing it again. How did I not hear him coming up behind me before? The man is monolithic. As he reaches the bottom floor, I notice he’s not even winded from the trip, his truck keys in hand.

“Shall we?” he asks, stepping toward the door and opening it for me.

I nod, and this time I can’t repress a smile as I look up at him. I compare him to Gareth again, and find Gareth sorely lacking. There’s something about Isaac that just works. He’s a man I want to be around, and I determine not to run out of his bed the next time I’m in it.

Until then, it’s time to get to work.

Isaac opens my car door for me, and I don’t protest. Frankly, it feels nice to be cared for. I buckle my seatbelt as he slides into the driver’s seat, turning on the engine and driving us toward the Tribune, with some direction from me. As the truck pulls up to the curb, I brace myself for the possibility of running into Gareth again. We didn’t exactly end things on the best note.

I step out before Isaac can open the door again. A man sits in a car across the street, a few cars down. I could swear that it’s Gareth but I think I’m just paranoid. At some point, we’re going to have to reconcile, and I’m sure we will.

We were good enough friends to get through this. I know we will be again once he’s over whatever’s going on with him. I don’t believe he can love me like that, when our friendship is so worth saving. I simply refuse to believe it.

When we reach the glass doorway to the building, Isaac pulls it open and I breeze in, the door closing behind me as he follows. He is a towering presence, and I revel in his energy. No harm will come to me so long as Isaac is by my side, and I am beyond grateful for this fact.

He is my savior, after all.

I lead Isaac to my desk in the bullpen, the walls of my cube that lovely shade of depressing soul-sucking gray. I sit at my desk, my hands hovering over my keyboard as I contemplate turning the machine on. At my hesitation, Isaac kneels down, reaching me at eye level. He is that tall.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I take a breath, releasing it as I stare at the black screen of my work desktop, half expecting it to flash on with an image of me and Isaac, staring at our own reflections.

“What if they’ve hacked this one, too? It makes sense. This is where I got a lot of work done.”

“Is it? I thought you did a lot of that work with Gareth.”

I nod. “I did but I kept a lot of my research here. They could have easily hacked it.”

“If they know that about you. As far as we know, they’ve only been keeping an eye on your home. Anyway, what have we got to lose by looking? We can’t get the information anywhere else.”

He’s right. There is no other way to access the data that I need, so I hold my breath as I press the button to turn on the machine.

Isaac’s hand slides over mine. I squeeze it, grateful for him all over again. The login screen appears, and I type in my credentials. The desktop pops up as it normally would. I did check a few emails the last time I was here before I was sent away to go “recover.” Like that could ever happen. I’ll go on a weeklong vacation to Aruba when all of this is over, but until then, I can’t stop.

I open the folder where I hold my contact information for cases, and I scan through each file, searching for the one I had listed for Juice. I scan it another time, and then another.

“It’s not here,” I say, my voice laced with disappointment.

“You think they got to it?” he asks, and I shrug.

“I don’t know. Probably. I know it was here but that’s the only thing missing from this file. Maybe I’m missing something. Just because I have some memories back doesn’t mean I have all of them.”

“Is there anyone we can trust to ask about it?”

I wrack my brain, thinking. There’s a chance that there might be something available in Preston’s office. I just have to convince the man to give it to me.

“I think so,” I say. “Come on.”

I lead Isaac to Preston’s office. The door is closed, as it so often is, and I knock twice, hard.

“What?”

His voice sounds like sandpaper, and I open the door, accepting that as welcome enough. Preston’s window is open and he is waving at the air around it, the room saturated with cigarette smoke. He glares at me as I walk in before he closes the window.

“That was not a welcome, and you’re not invited back to write for us yet, Scarlett. I might consider allowing you onto the research team again, provided you can promise not to get killed.”

I’m about to retort when his eyes widen, gaze directed above and behind me. Isaac has straightened to his full height. One glance back at him tells me that he’s crossed his arms, and he looks intimidating as hell. I want to smile but I don’t. I don’t want to give Preston the fuel to turn us away.

“Ah, you got a bodyguard eh? Smart girl,” Preston says, sitting back in his chair. “So, what do you want? Is he a writer, too? You both want jobs now?”

“What we want is information,” Isaac says, and his voice is icy. “We need to reach out to an old contact—an engineer by the name of Wallace.”

Preston lifts an eyebrow. “You’re going hunting for that kook? You seriously think he’s going to help you?”

Before I can answer, he holds up his hands.

“Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Scarlett. I’m sure it’s exciting to track down your own attacker but I will go on the record saying I do not support this idea at all. Maybe you should just leave the country. Get a fresh start. I hear France is nice this time of year.”

Isaac presses forward but I place a hand on his forearm, stopping him. I can tell he doesn’t like it but he doesn’t move forward again.

“Come on, Preston. You know if this happened to you that you’d be on the trail faster than a dog in a fox hunt. I need to do this. I won’t let any of it get back to you but I need that information. Besides, if I crack this, it will be the story of the century.”

He stares at me, and I stare back at him without blinking. After a heavy pause, he leans back, opening a side drawer in his desk. He pulls out a draft of a story, sliding it across the desk.

“You wrote his contact information on this and asked me to lock it away. I believe it was by the man’s request. Like I said, paranoid kook.”

I grab the document, staring at my own handwriting with an address on it and nothing else. He did want to cover his tracks but I’m thrilled to have a lead. “Thank you, Preston. Thank you.”

He waves me off. “Try not to die. I don’t want any of this tied to me.”

“I assure you, she won’t,” Isaac chimes in as we turn and leave the office.

“Close the door behind you!”

I do as asked, Isaac and I walking quickly back through the halls side by side.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Is this guy stable?” Isaac asks.

I look up at him, and I can tell he’s not worrying about himself. He’s worried about me. My stomach flutters at the thought, even as it twists over what we’re about to do.

“Do we have a choice? I can’t think of any other leads to take here.”

He ponders that, opening the door for me to walk through as we exit the building. He’s being so strong and capable, and all I can think about is how bad I feel for getting him involved in this. Poor man had to search his apartment for bugs. He shouldn’t be involved in this at all.

But I’m glad he is, in spite of myself.

We slide back into his truck and he looks at the address, typing it into a navigation system. Once it’s entered, he turns and looks at me.

“Let’s go find us a spy.”