Avery sat in the conference room in the low-rise building in Research Triangle Park, the same room where she had interviewed with Rubicon Ventures so many years before. The same man who had interviewed her back then, David Ward, sat across from her.

“I’m proud of you,” he said.

“I’m proud of me too.”

“Seriously, Avery. Listen for a second. What you did was beyond the call of duty. There’s no award this nation confers that even begins to recognize the type of risk you took or the skill you displayed. What I’m trying to tell you is, I know what you did, and everyone up the Rubicon chain of command knows. And we appreciate you.”

Avery fidgeted in her seat, unsure what to say. After a moment, she asked what she’d come here to ask. “My father?”

David nodded. “Was very well taken care of. We had him transferred to the Dean Dome. He’s still there. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming.”

“Thanks.”

David leaned back in his chair. “Can we trust them?”

Avery knew he was asking about Peyton and Lin Shaw. What she didn’t know was what to say. “Time will tell.”

“It would be nice to know ahead of time.”

“I don’t see what option we have.”

David let the chair ease forward. “Lots of people are unhappy about Lin Shaw’s immunity agreement.”

“I don’t blame them. But they’ll have to get over it. We need her.”

“You’re sure?”

“This isn’t over. We don’t know what’s next. It could be worse than the pandemic. We need to start dismantling the Citium. We need somebody who’s been on the inside to do that. We can sort everything else out once we’ve finished this.”

“All right. I can live with that.”

Avery stood, and David walked her out. At the door, his tone softened, “Don’t worry, okay?”

“About what?”

“You know what, Avery. We’re going to do everything we can to find him. Every resource we have is at your disposal. I know what Desmond means to you.”

At the Dean Dome, Avery weaved through the rows of makeshift cubicles. She had waited until she was well enough to pretend she wasn’t in any pain. She didn’t want her father to know—just in case he recognized her.

At his cubicle, she waited at the opening for him to see her. His reaction to her always told her what sort of day he was having. The Alzheimer’s had progressed a lot in the last few years. Good days were becoming more and more rare.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“No,” she said quietly. “I was just coming by to visit. See if you needed anything.”

He glanced around. “No. Think I’m all set.” He scrutinized her face. “You look… Do I know you?”