“Family medicine. I got a masters in Public Health. That was really my passion.”

“Where did you work?”

“After school? The WHO.” Some of the cheeriness faded from her, as if it was something she didn’t want to talk about.

“And you lost someone close to you there.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Yes. In 1991.”

That was the year Peyton had seen her. She had been thirteen years old then, standing at a gravesite in San Francisco. The cemetery was on a hill outside of town. Skyscrapers and the bay stretched out in the distance. A thick cloud of fog hung over the water and snaked into the city, its white tendrils flowing in and out of the red steel supports of the Golden Gate Bridge and the glittering silver buildings.

When the service ended, a woman in her early thirties had walked over, a sad smile on her lips. She spoke to Peyton’s mother, then her sister Madison, and finally to Peyton.

Her accent was Australian, her voice kind.

“Your brother meant a great deal to me, Peyton. He told me you wanted to be a physician.”

“Not anymore.”

The woman took a small metal item from her coat pocket and held it out to Peyton.

“He was very proud of you. I believe he would have wanted you to have this.”

She placed the small silver pin in Peyton’s hand. The teenager examined it.

“I thought it burned.”

“I had it cleaned and refinished.” The woman smiled. “I wanted you to have it in the same condition it was in when your brother carried it. All things can be repaired, Peyton. Some simply require more time than others. Don’t let tragedy take your dreams away.”

The woman in the shabby office in Australia looked at Peyton now, twenty-five years later, with the same kindness in her eyes. And now, recognition.

“You’re Andrew’s youngest sister, aren’t you?”

Peyton nodded.

“I still think about your brother a great deal—miss him a great deal.”

“Me too,” Peyton said quietly.

“Would you like to see him again?”

Chapter 99

Chapter 99

Desmond walked slowly to the burned remains of the home where he’d spent the first five years of his life. Weeds had reclaimed some of the once-charred terrain. Only the masonry foundation and fireplace now stood, like a blackened tombstone.

He felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out. There was a message from the Labyrinth Reality app:

Download Complete

Download of what? Another memory?

Without warning, Desmond’s vision blurred. His head swam. He staggered, lost his balance, and fell to a knee. What’s happening to me? He braced himself on the ground with one hand. He felt nauseous. He tried to focus, but the memory came like a blow to the head, hitting hard, overwhelming him.