second that Amber didn’t respond. Finally Amber slid across the bench toward her. “Reese,” Amber said gently.
Being so close to Amber set off every single alarm in Reese’s body. “What?” she said stiffly.
“I’m glad we talked. I hope—I want you to know that I’m really sorry about what happened and I just hope you don’t hate me.”
Reese’s heart seemed to twist inside her, as if someone were squeezing it in their fist. She looked down at the ground, at the pebbles embedded in the gray concrete, at the toe of Amber’s shoe and the curve of her ankle. “I don’t hate you,” Reese said.
“You don’t?” Amber’s voice was tiny.
Reese turned to face her. Amber looked brittle, as if a word from Reese could shatter her. “No. I don’t hate you. But I don’t trust you, either. You lied to me about a big, big thing. It’s not only that you hid who you are—you hid who
Amber went pale. “I know. I know, I’m not saying that.”
“Good.” Reese stood up. She couldn’t sit there anymore. She was brimful of anxiousness and fear and a desire to just look at Amber, and that was what frightened Reese the most. “Then you know where we stand.” Reese forced herself to walk away, putting one foot in front of the other, leaving Amber behind.
CHAPTER 12
David arrived at Reese’s house at five thirty on Friday night. When the doorbell rang, Reese was staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, debating whether her new outfit made her look cool or like she was trying too hard. She ran downstairs to open the front door before her parents got there. She had half expected David to be waiting on the front step with a corsage in a plastic box, and when she saw he was only holding his car keys, she was relieved. His gaze swept down her legs and back up to her face.
“Nice boots,” he said with a grin that made her feel tingly all over.
“Thanks.” She was about to leave the house when her parents came down the hall.
“Hang on, Reese. You’re not even going to let us say hi to David?” her mom admonished her.
Reese sighed and stepped back, crossing her arms. “We have to go,” she said.
Her mom’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?” She looked at David. “You know you’re only allowed to go to dinner and the party. Nothing else. She needs to be back by midnight.”
David smiled a parent-friendly smile, and Reese swallowed an urgent need to giggle. “Of course, Ms. Sheridan. No problem.”
Reese’s dad was right behind her mom and he added, “Reese, you have your phone?”
“Yes, Dad.”
It had taken her quite a while to argue her way into having this night without their supervision. She had to give them the addresses of the restaurant they were going to as well as Eric Chung’s house. Her winning argument, though, came from an unexpected source. After their visit to Angel Island yesterday, Agent Forrestal was waiting at Fisherman’s Wharf. He told them that due to the gunman’s attack, the government had decided that Reese and David would be better off with a security detail.
“You’re already following us,” Reese pointed out.
“And now you’ll know it’s for your own safety,” Agent Forrestal said.
She wasn’t happy about the development, but it did ultimately convince her parents—and David’s—that they should be allowed one night without parental supervision.
She grabbed her jacket and left the house, following David down the steps to his blue Honda. As she buckled her seat belt, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “They’re both following us now,” he said.
She twisted around in her seat and saw two champagne-colored sedans merge into the street behind them: David’s security detail, which had followed him to her house, and her own. She and David had agreed it was useless to try to prevent the men in black from tailing them to the meeting with Charles Lovick. They didn’t know how, for one thing, and both of them thought it might be better if they were followed there, anyway. They had no idea what Lovick was going to do. Reese had looked him up on the Internet and learned that he was a board member at Allied Research Associates, the multinational conglomerate that owned EC&R. That was the government contractor that had managed Project Blue Base—and manufactured the listening devices Reese had found in the walls of her house. There had been little else about him online, but it had been enough to make Reese wonder if she and David were walking straight into the lion’s den by going to this meeting. Nevertheless, their need to know what Lovick wanted to tell them trumped her hesitation.
The sedans followed them all the way downtown. The 88 Variety Store was on the edge of Chinatown, so David parked in the Sutter-Stockton Garage, a multistory parking structure a few blocks away. One of the sedans turned into the garage after them, but the other did not. Reese thought the men in black might wind up in the same elevator as her and David, but the doors closed before they made it.
Outside, the fog had already crept in, and the air was chilly and damp. Reese zipped up her jacket and stuffed her hands in the pockets as she and David hurried north on Stockton. The street tunneled through a hill at the end of the block, and at the mouth of the echoing tunnel, Reese and David entered the stairwell to climb up to the overpass. A gust of wind blew exhaust fumes at her, and she tried to breathe through her mouth. The stairwell was lit by fluorescent bulbs that cast the dirty corners in harsh relief. On the landing halfway up a sign read THIS AREA UNDER SURVEILLANCE. As they went up the second flight, she saw the video camera mounted on the wall above. She wondered if the men in black had access to that footage.
When they emerged from the stairwell, she gulped in a deep breath of fresh, misty air. They had to trudge uphill past the Ritz-Carlton and then go down a second flight of stairs to get to Chinatown. It was steep, but it beat walking through the tunnel itself, with its noxious air and speeding cars. She glanced over her shoulder as she and David walked, but she didn’t see the men in black anywhere. She wondered if they had managed to lose them, and the idea made her uneasy. She wanted witnesses when she and David walked into the 88 Variety Store. She was relieved when they exited the second stairway and she saw one of the sedans waiting for them in a no-parking zone north of the tunnel.
“There they are,” she said.
“And there’s the store,” David said.
The 88 Variety Store was wedged between an herbal shop and a store selling Chinatown knickknacks. Its sign was faded and one of the number eights was missing, leaving only a grimy outline of where it used to be. Through the single front window, Reese saw cluttered shelves lit dimly by overhead lights. She looked at David.
He glanced back at the sedan parked half a block away. “Let’s go,” he said, and opened the door.
It knocked against a bell as they entered, but the tinkling sound didn’t quite mask the creaking hinge. The interior of the tiny shop was crammed full of towering shelves stocked haphazardly with plastic colanders and rice bowls and pastel sponges. Reese initially thought the store was empty, but as soon as the door swung shut she heard steps behind her. She spun around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit positioning himself in front of the door. He had very short hair and his arms seemed too large for the suit, which strained against his muscles.
“Who are you?” she asked, startled.
“Mr. Lovick is waiting for you in the back,” the man said. There was something about him—beyond his muscular bulk—that unnerved Reese.
“Come on,” David said, reaching for her arm. His touch startled her, sharpening the sliver of fear that had gone through her at the sight of the large man. David was freaked out too.
She didn’t like turning her back on the man at the door, but she had to in order to walk down the narrow aisle toward the back of the store. There was a curtained doorway behind the counter where the cash register was located, and someone pulled the curtain aside as she and David approached. A dark-haired man in black-
