Rachel was pleased to see that the protestors had dispersed since theyd first visited the clinic. When they parked and walked inside, it was in the quiet of the afternoon. Rachel took the opportunity to relax herself, knowing that the line she was about to tread was a fragile one.

You want to fill me in now? Jack asked as he followed her across the lot.

What do you remember about the receptionist we spoke to?

He thought for a moment and said, Not sure. Wasnt she wearing something over her head? Like a bandana or something?

They were at the front door by then, so Rachel only nodded as she walked inside the clinic. Being that it was now the end of the day, there were no lines at the windows. Behind one of the windows, three women were speaking quietly. To the far left, Rachel saw the receptionist theyd spoken to before. She was typing something into her laptop but looked up to them when they approached. There was an initial look of confusion which she then tried to replace with a smile. Rachel barely noticed, though; she was eyeing the blue bandana on her head.

Forget something? the receptionist asked.

Rachel detected some anger. It made sense; theyd essentially tried pushing her to get them the list of names that she had fought against.

No, we didnt forget anything, Rachel said. But I was wondering if we could speak with you.

With me? Why?

Just a few questions about the case. In private would be preferable.

I dont understand what you need to speak with me about.

Just a formality, Rachel said, already feeling rather bad about what was to come.

It was clear that the idea made her uncomfortable, but the receptionist leaned back in her chair and looked in the direction of the chatting women on the other side of the partition. Hey, Giana, can you take my window for a second? I need to chat with these people.

She got up angrily and came around the partition. She nodded to the right, where there was a small waiting area. It was empty and already straightened up for tomorrows business hours, the magazines all neatly stacked and the smell of disinfectant in the air. It was not a general waiting room, but the sort a patient might sit in while waiting for an outcome. For Rachel, it brought up images of her doctors visit the day before and a chill passed through her.

Whats your name? Jack asked as they all walked into the room. His voice was low and level. It was his way, Rachel supposed, of trying to fit into the scene. He was clearly confusedand that was Rachels fault.

Amber Seibert.

Amber, how long have you worked here? Rachel asked.

This is year number eight.

You like it?