Page 81 of Override

Maybe I'm chasing nothing. Maybe my brain is trying to build a pattern that isn't there because it can't stop thinking about her.

I hate that possibility enough to keep driving.

The third clinic sits inside a faded brick shopping center nearly three hours west of Chicago.

I almost turn around before I reach the front door. Almost.

The woman behind the desk can't be much older than fifty. Gray hair pulled into a loose bun. Reading glasses hanging from a silver chain around her neck.

She smiles politely as I approach. "What can I do for you?"

I slide Maeve's photograph across the counter. "I'm trying to locate someone."

Her answer comes automatically. "I can't confirm whether anyone has been treated here."

"I figured."

She blinks.

"I know you have rules." I offer her a small smile. "I'd probably be worried if you didn't."

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "I still can't help you."

"I'm not asking you to."

She looks down at the picture anyway. Just for a second. Then another. Recognition flickers across her face before disappearing just as quickly.

There it is.

"You know her."

"I didn't say that."

"No." I nod once. "You didn't."

Silence stretches between us.

She slides the picture back toward me. "I'm sorry."

I tuck it into my jacket instead of putting it away. "I'm just trying to make sure she's okay."

Something changes in her expression. Not enough to break policy. Just enough to make her human. "I really can't tell you who she is."

"I'm not asking for her name."

"Good." A sad smile crosses her face. "Because I wouldn't tell you."

Fair.

I start to turn away.

"If..." Her voice stops me. I glance back. "If someone looked familiar..." She chooses every word carefully. "...I'd think I'd seen her before."

My pulse slows. "And..."

She looks toward the empty hallway before lowering her voice. "...I might think I'd seen her a second time."

Every instinct I have comes alive. I don't move. Don't speak. Just wait.