The ride from La Esperanza to San Antonio was about an hour and Jameson noted that Audrey seemed tense, particularly when Bryan dominated the conversation, with questions about her.

“You are well known in America, Dr. McMahon,” the man said as he steered the caravan through the narrow jungle paths.

“Is that a question?” Audrey asked and Jameson found himself looking at her with surprise. He knew her well enough to know that being rude was not really her flavor.

Bryan chuckled but there was no mirth in his tone.

“No. I was merely stating a fact.”

“Hm.”

Audrey looked out the window as if she was trying to end the conversation.

“McMahon. That is not a very common last name, is it?”

“It’s common enough,” Audrey told him curtly, shooting Jameson a wary look that he didn’t understand.

What’s going on here?

For the first time, Jameson began to feed into Audrey’s apprehension although he couldn’t say why.

“Do you have a large family, Dr. McMahon?”

Audrey’s head swiveled slowly like she was a possessed children’s doll, her sooty eyes becoming slits as she studied the driver.

“That depends on your definition of large, doesn’t it?”

Jameson opened his mouth to object to the pointed questioning, not comprehending what was happening but knowing that Bryan’s queries were making his new lover uncomfortable.

“Your English is excellent, Bryan,” Audrey said before Jameson could speak. “Where did you learn it?”

Bryan lifted his eyes and stared at her through the rear-view mirror.

“My mother was American,” he said and Audrey nodded.

“That certainly explains it,” she said but Jameson could plainly see she wasn’t convinced by his explanation.

His English is really good, Jameson realized. He hadn’t given it much thought until that moment.

“Where were you raised, Dr. McMahon?”

“Bryan, how long is the drive to town?” Jameson interjected, trying to take Bryan’s attention from Audrey.

Bryan’s mouth pursed and he cast Jameson a sidelong look.

“Five minutes, maybe less.”

“Great. I’m starved. I hope there’s a good place to eat. Any recommendations?”

Bryan scoffed openly.

“Hardly. This is not a tourist attraction, Dr. Landry. This is a small town with a sprinkling of houses.”

“Oh no. Well, how far is the nearest city?”

“I don’t have time to take you to the nearest city.” There was ice in Bryan’s tone as his face twisted into a scowl. “I barely have time to take you now.”

“Too bad,” Jameson sighed. “I was really looking forward to getting in touch with the local culture.”

Bryan didn’t say anything but in less than a minute, a tin-roofed village appeared before them.

San Antonio was a sleepy, quintessential Central American town, boasting little more than a church and a hamlet of tired, dusty shops and houses.

Tucked between Diriomo and Granada, it doesn’t have ties to either “major” city and claimed little in the way of entertainment, but Jameson hadn’t expected much. He had seen it when the plane had landed there upon his arrival and he’d only asked Bryan the inane questions to keep him from peppering Audrey with questions.

“I will be back in two hours. Right here,” Bryan told them as he stopped the van. “Please, do not be late. I have much too much to do.”

“Two hours.” Jameson glanced at his sports watch and nodded as Audrey checked her Fitbit.

“Thanks, Bryan,” Jameson said brightly, jumping from the van and extending his hand for Audrey to take. She accepted it and allowed herself to be led from the van without a word to the driver. The door barely closed before Bryan took off, leaving them in a cloud of dust.

“We can take a trip to the city later in the week if you want,” Jameson offered brightly, noting the drawn look on his companion’s face. “I should have warned you that San Antonio doesn’t have a lot in the way of nightlife.”

Audrey didn’t say anything, her brow knit as she stood in place, her eyes trained in the direction of the caravan which had already disappeared.

“Audrey?”

“Hm?”

“Are you all right?”

She forced a smile and nodded quickly.

“Yes. Of course. Let’s go explore, shall we?”

He realized she still held onto his hand and he squeezed it gently as she moved toward the tiny town beyond.

“He asks a lot of questions, huh?” Jameson asked as they walked through the beautiful, untouched streets. Several locals cast them curious stares but everyone smiled back when Jameson beamed.

This is how people should live. Simply and compassionately. Maybe with less poverty but certainly with this amount of grace and civility.

“Does he ask you the same questions?” Audrey replied. “Bryan? Does he give you the Spanish Inquisition?”

“No,” he said slowly. “That was weird, right?”

Audrey didn’t speak but he noticed that she looked over her shoulder, biting on her lower lip.

“How did you get approached to come here?” she asked urgently, her gaze moving toward his face.

“I asked you if you wanted to come to town,” he reminded her dryly.

“Not here today. Here to Nicaragua. To the hospital.”

His brow knit.

“Bennet sent my assistant a letter and I responded to it. We met for lunch and he offered me the job.”

“You never knew Bennet from before?”

He shook his head.

“No. I never heard of him before I Googled him.”

“Shit.” Her gait quickened slightly and Jameson realized she was leading him away from town.

“Where are you going?”

She paused abruptly and looked at him.

“I have no idea,” she confessed. “But something’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

“Okay, I think you’re having buyer’s remorse about giving up your posh life in the States,” he told her, half-jokingly. “But after the initial culture shock wears off, I’m sure—”

“I’m not having culture shock or buyer’s remorse,” she barked angrily. “I walked into a trap.”

“A trap?” he laughed but his mind was whirling.

I should have known she was unstable. She can’t preach all that hocus pocus crap and be mentally sound.

“I am not crazy!” she snapped at him and his head jerked up in shock.

“I-I never said you were,” he replied quickly, mustering his therapist voice to placate her. “I’m sure you believe your fears are very real.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable.

“What?” he asked finally, uncomfortable that she didn’t speak.

“Are you with them?”

“With who?” He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the exasperation from his voice.

Not only am I going to have to spend the next two hours with this lunatic, I’m going to be working with her for six months.

To his amazement, Audrey exhaled and relief colored her face.

“Okay,” she said but it was more to herself than him. “Okay.”

“Maybe we should go and find a place to sit down in the shade,” he suggested comfortingly. “It’s really hot and I could use some water.”

And some witnesses.

“You don’t need witnesses, Jameson,” Audrey said quietly. The blood drained from his face.

“W-what did you just say?”

“I said, you don’t have to worry about me going crazy. You don’t need witnesses.”

“I-I never said anything like that.”

“No,” she sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “You only thought it.”

“I didn’t!” he squeaked, the indignation faltering.

How the hell could she know what I was thinking verbatim?

“I know a lot of things,” Audrey told him aloud and his jaw slacked with surprise.

“W-who are you?” he choked, stepping back. “What is this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Have you worked with the CIA?”

“The CIA?”

“The Central Intelligence Agency?”

“I know who the CIA is, Audrey. And no, I haven’t. Whatever you’re mixed up in…”

She still sounds paranoid, he realized. Is she in a delusional state right now?

He leaned forward to casually look at her pupils but she shoved him back.

“I’m not having a schizoid breakdown,” she yelled. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She’s guessing what I’m thinking. People with personality disorders and psychopathic personalities can often—

“Read people better than the average person,” Audrey intoned, finishing his thought. “I am not a textbook case, Jameson. I merely have capabilities that you would be hard pressed to imagine with your surprisingly narrow world view.”

His jaw was almost on the dusty ground and he willed himself to stop thinking, lest she read more of his mind.

“You can read my thoughts?”

“I can do a lot of things,” she repeated. She eyed him speculatively.

“Do you know who Oculus is?”

The question sent butterflies through his gut but he had no idea why.

“No.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“That emitted a physiological response from you,” she warned him. “Are you sure you haven’t heard the name?”

“How the hell could you know what my body did?”

“Stop asking me questions right now — let me think,” Audrey told him, looking about worriedly. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“You’ve…” he steeled himself from exploding. “All right, Audrey. You want me to think you’re of sound mind but you’re not making any sense right now.”

“Bryan,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “He’ll be back for me but why now? Why didn’t they take me before?”

“Why would they take you at all?” Jameson asked conversationally. “Why don’t we start there.”

He grinned disarmingly at her and tried to keep his thoughts neutral but the concept was more difficult than he imagined.

Christ. When have I ever had to watch my own thoughts?

“You don’t have to watch your thoughts,” she snapped angrily. “Just help me think of a way out of here.”

Holy shit. What is this?

“You need to think hard, Jameson. Are you sure you don’t know Oculus? You’ve never heard of them?”

Again, his temperature spiked but nothing about them came to mind. Inexplicably, he could taste the burn of whiskey on his tongue.

What the hell…?

“What? What’s happening?” Audrey asked, her eyes still darting around the horizon as if she expected an ambush.

“Nothing! Get out of my head!” he growled, feeling humiliated suddenly.

“Oh. You believe me now?” she asked bitterly. “Good. We have to formulate a plan. If this isn’t because of the CIA, it has to be Oculus on my tail.”

She gnawed on her lower lip and he could see the wheels turning in her mind.

“Could the hospital be real?”

“Audrey, look at me.”

She continued to mutter to herself, wringing her hands and he grabbed her shoulders, refocussing her eyes upward. Regardless of whether she was being paranoid or not, her fear was real and paramount.

“Look at me!” he insisted. “Whatever you think is going on, I promise to help you. But you have to tell me everything, okay?”

The sound of a vehicle approaching suddenly caught their attention and Audrey swore under her breath. Down the long, winding road, a black tinted van headed toward them at rapid-fire speed.

It didn’t take Jameson long to realize that Audrey’s concerns were legit. That van didn’t belong in the rural area, gunning toward them.

“What the hell?” Jameson muttered, still taken aback by the approaching vehicle. There was no time to consider the surreal quality of the situation as Audrey grabbed his hand and yanked him off of the road, just as bullets began to fly at them.

“Audrey!” he choked. “Are you okay?”

“RUN!” she screamed. “They’re shooting to kill!”

He didn’t need to be told again. His military training kicked in as they sprinted away from the ambush. Without slowing, Audrey shot him a scathing look.

“Do you believe me now?” she cried.