called herself Kennedy.”
“That was her name before,” Patrick said as we all began walking toward the house.
“Yeah,” Mason said. He turned to Laurel. “Can you have the doctor do a drug panel on her?”
“You think she was drugged?” Laurel asked.
“I fucking think we’re back to your formula.”
Laurel stopped walking. “What?”
“Think about it. She didn’t know us or her name, but whatever they gave her isn’t working,” Mason answered. “She recognized Sparrow.”
Laurel’s expression became puzzled and thoughtful as we all climbed the front steps. The air cooled within the entry as we paraded into the kitchen. I peered over the long table and out the kitchen windows. The house was no longer wide open. The air ducts had been scoured and the windows and doors secured.
Patrick was speaking quietly to Madeline. Her head was shaking, but she was smiling. His hand went to her enlarged midsection just before she laid her hand on top of his. These were the moments the rest of Chicago didn’t know or see. They knew Patrick as the negotiator and dealmaker he was. They knew him to be truthful, tough, and even ruthless. They knew him as a man who made difficult decisions and met the consequences with determination.
My thoughts went to Lorna. Instead of feeding my fear, I imagined the two of us back in our apartment. From the moment we met, we shared a surreal connection. We were comfortable with one another in a way I’d never imagined. There were no awkward moments, no uncertainty. Watching Patrick with Madeline made me realize how much I envied what they were about to do, to raise a child together.
The world we lived in was cruel and unforgiving. Yet, alone with our family—our tower family—we were more than a part of the Sparrow outfit. We were friends, lovers, and partners. Soon, some of us would be parents.
“Didn’t she?” Mason asked. “Reid.”
I turned to him, certain my thoughts had taken me away from part of this conversation. “I’m sorry. What?”
Laurel came forward and reached for my hand. “Sit down, Reid. Can I get you something? Maybe something to drink or eat?”
Following her lead, I sat. “I’m fine.” I looked at Mason who had taken the seat across the table. “What were you saying?”
“How much sleep have you gotten in the last...going on three days?”
“Shut the fuck up. What were you asking?”
He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell Laurel about finding Araneae.”
At the mention of her name, I looked around the kitchen. “Is she upstairs?”
Patrick and Madeline came to the table. Madeline carried a pitcher of ice water and Patrick had a tray of glasses. They sat them in the middle of the table. Madeline spoke, “Yes, Sterling took her upstairs. The doctor brought an ultrasound as well as some other supplies.”
“Um,” I began, thinking back, “we were flying and I saw something flash. It was like a compact mirror used to signal a plane.”
“Araneae had her purse?” Madeline asked.
“No.” I smiled at the memory. “It turns out it was her huge fucking rock of a ring.”
Everyone grinned.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Anyway, we landed and began walking toward where we saw the flash. As you saw, she’s sunburned, and even though she drank some water, she’s probably dehydrated.”
I reached for the pitcher and poured myself a glass.
“I wonder how long she’s been out there.” Laurel said. “Tell me about her name. I feel like I should understand.”
“She referred to herself as Kennedy,” I offered. “It was her name—before.”
“Hasn’t it been Araneae since before she and Sterling married?” Laurel asked.
We all nodded.
“Which has been nearly three years?”
“Yes,” Patrick answered.
Madeline sipped a glass of water. “Are you saying that she didn’t know her own name or either of you?”
“No, she didn’t,” Mason answered. “But, she didn’t seem frightened. She seemed confused.”
Laurel stood and began walking back and forth by the table and breakfast bar. “But she knew Sterling.”
“She did, which is odd,” I said. “Because Mason told her that her husband brought the doctor here, and she seemed...” I paused to think. “I can’t come up with a better word than confused.”
“But as soon as he reached for her and lifted her, she knew him,” Mason added.
Laurel nodded with a grin. “That’s amazing.”
“Amazing?” I questioned.
“What are you thinking?” Patrick asked.
“If she was given anything similar to my formula, its purpose is to mute traumatic memories. The problem from the beginning of my research has been the concern over erasing all memories.” Laurel