“No, it’s—” I shake my head. “It’s the kind of work they’re doing. Chloe, she only got glimpses so she can’t be sure, but she said she saw a lot of not-good stuff. They were thinking about Marines they’d worked with—or no, they worked on. They were experimenting with them—on them—ugh, I don’t know. But she saw Frank. In the Hayeses’ heads. They were doing something to him. She said it was a different Frank too—like, younger, healthier. And the Hayeses and some other scientists were doing something to him and a bunch of other soldiers but the soldiers knew about it. So, I don’t fucking know what that means.”

I may not be able to read people’s heads like Chloe can, but just feeling her sick with worry as she relayed what she saw to me gave my imagination plenty to work with.

“Chloe got all this from their thoughts by mentioning Frank?” Dr. Bright asks, like the exact wording of the conversation is what’s important here.

“Well, no. After she saw the first bit of something,” I explain, “she started talking about Frank more and asking some questions. She’s gotten really good at making people think of certain things.”

“I didn’t know that.” A sliver of sharp disappointment cuts through the practiced calm.

“Yeah, it’s actually—it’s pretty cool,” I say. “And apparently when she started talking about other organizations that she’s looked into to help Frank—like the art therapy place and the VA and the vet center and all that—that’s when she saw this symbol in the Hayeses’ thoughts. The one for that organization you told me about, the—the monitoring one—”

“The AM?” Dr. Bright’s eyes widen and it’s like being shocked by the third rail. “Chloe saw The AM’s logo in the Hayeses’ thoughts?”

“I guess.” I nod.

“Is she certain?” The electrical current grows and sparks.

“She seemed pretty certain.”

“She should have called me.” Dr. Bright still sounds calm but she’s given up on trying to hide her fear from me. It makes my whole body static. “If your boyfriend’s parents work for the AM, then—”

“No, no, they don’t work for them,” I say, my instinct telling me that clarity on this is important. “They just—they work with them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Chloe was pretty sure about that,” I explain. “They don’t work for the AM or whatever it’s called but they’ve been working with them on the soldier experiments that they’re doing. And Chloe is worried it might have something to do with us.”

“What?” Dr. Bright’s worry gets caught up in the tangle of confusion and pressure grows behind my eyes.