The coffee maker finished. I’d only set it to make three cups, which would probably be enough to get me through the evening. I’d just filled my Styrofoam cup when the door opened. A man entered, and I nearly dropped the coffee.

“Mr. Darnell,” I said, setting the pot back on the burner. My hands trembled. “It—it’s nice to see you again, sir.”

“You too, Sydney,” he said, forcing a stiff smile. “You’ve certainly grown up.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, unsure if that was a compliment.

Tom Darnell was my father’s age and had brown hair laced with silver. There were more lines in his face since the last time I’d seen him, and his blue eyes had an uneasy look that I didn’t usually associate with him. Tom Darnell was a high-ranking official among the Alchemists and had earned his position through decisive action and a fierce work ethic. He’d always seemed larger than life when I was younger, fiercely confident and aweinspiring. Now, he seemed to be afraid of me, which made no sense. Wasn’t he angry? After all, I was the one responsible for his son being arrested and locked away by the Alchemists.

“I appreciate you coming all the way out here,” he added, once a few moments of awkward silence had passed. “I know it’s a long round-trip, especially on a weekend.”

“It’s no problem at all, sir,” I said, hoping I sounded confident. “I’m happy to help with… whatever you need.” I still wondered what exactly that could be.

He studied me for a few seconds and gave a curt nod. “You’re very dedicated,” he said. “Just like your father.”

I made no response. I knew that comment had been intended as a compliment, but I didn’t really take it that way.

Tom cleared his throat. “Well, then. Let’s get this out of the way. I really don’t want to inconvenience you any more than is necessary.”

Again, I got that nervous, deferential vibe. Why would he be so conscientious of my feelings? After what I’d done to his son, Keith, I would’ve expected rage or accusations. Tom opened the door for me and gestured me through.

“Can I bring my coffee, sir?”

“Of course.”

He took me back into the concrete corridor, toward more of the closed doors. I clutched my coffee like a security blanket, far more frightened than I’d been when first entering this place. Tom came to a stop a few doors down, in front of one with a red light, but hesitated before opening it.

“I want you to know… that what you did was incredibly brave,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “I know you and Keith were—are—friends, and it couldn’t have been easy to turn him in. It shows just how committed you are to our work—something that’s not always easy when personal feelings are involved.”

Keith and I weren’t friends now or then, but I supposed I could understand Tom’s mistake. Keith had lived with my family for a summer, and later, he and I had worked together in Palm Springs. Turning him in for his crimes hadn’t been difficult for me at all. I’d actually enjoyed it. Seeing the stricken look on Tom’s face, though, I knew I couldn’t say anything like that.