“Since you’re asking for concessions,” she said, “it’s only fair for me to ask you for something.”

“I’m listening.”

“Furry Tails really does need a revamped website. So if you’re going to stay on, I’d ask that you complete the site, regardless of how quickly we complete the hunt.”

“I’ll finish your website.”

No one had ever mistaken her for a hard-nosed capitalist, and talking about finances made her itchy. That said, she was a businesswoman and transparency was one of her highest ideals. “Also, Furry Tails can afford to pay your salary, but I didn’t budget bodyguard payroll into my monthly personal expenses.”

His hazel eyes could cut diamonds. “I don’t want you to pay me anything extra.”

“Okay then. You and me. Treasure hunt partners?” This really was the most unlikely pairing ever.

“Partners,” he agreed.

CHAPTER TWO

Luke’s life fell into four categories.

Category One: Life before Ethan died.

Category Two: Life after Ethan died.

Category Three: Life in prison.

Category Four: This new life on the outside.

He punched off his alarm on Friday morning and cracked open his eyes. Five a.m. Still black outside.

Many of the details of his four selves were different.

For example, before Ethan died, Luke would pull a shade over his window every night and sleep in total darkness. After Ethan died, total darkness had no longer been his friend. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all unless his closet light was on and the closet door wide open. Even so, sleep became a battle he never won. In prison, lighting choices hadn’t been up to him. When the lights went out, they went out. But never to total darkness. Since he’d been released on parole, he’d been sleeping with light filtering in from the bathroom. He also kept one curtain pushed to the side and the window behind it cracked open a few inches, regardless of the weather.

No one knew when an earthquake might strike. If one struck, you didn’t want it to trap you.

He shoved the covers away and sat on the edge of the mattress. Cold air snaked over him.

For years he’d been looking forward to regaining control over his life. Then he’d gotten out of prison and realized he no longer knew how to choose among a wide range of options or how to fill a day.

It had taken him hours to make his first trip through a grocery store. He’d stared at the huge number of soap choices for ten minutes. Then stared at the cereal choices. Then the apple choices and the yogurt choices—overwhelmed.

Finally, he’d returned home and unpacked his groceries. But then he’d had no idea how to spend the rest of his hours. Not that day or the days that followed. For long periods of time, he’d forgotten to eat.