“So Allen is corrupt. I bet you didn’t push him over my balcony, either?” She had meant it to be flip, but the man’s entire expression became relieved.

“Exactly,” he breathed, and her eyes flicked to the ladder and her gun still on it. “I was never in your apartment. At least, not that night.”

“I’m not corrupt,” Peri said hotly. “And neither is Allen.”

“And yet you’re both here killing a man for your own revenge,” Silas said, and Peri’s teeth clenched, the doubt becoming more sure. “I know your rules,” Silas continued. “I know this isn’t you. They implanted the suggestion for you to get rid of me. If you do it, it will reinforce their lies. Stay here when we leave. Opti will show up. I promise it. They want you to kill me.”

“You can’t give a drafter a false memory,” she said, eyes going to the exit when Howard pushed the auditorium door open.

“Silas?” Howard looked worried. “We’ve got three cars with lights on the expressway.”

“You can,” Silas said, and Howard ducked back out. “That’s why I quit Opti. But Jack is my idea, too. He’s your intuition. Listen to him.”

A hallucination? Peri looked at Jack, and he stared back, her uncertainty growing.

Grimacing, Silas pulled a creased photo from his pocket and set it on the ladder beside the gun. “Last February, you and I brought back a memory of Jack that I wasn’t privy to. I lifted this from Allen before they torched your apartment at Lloyd Park, and I think this is what you remembered. I shouldn’t have left you that night. I’m sorry. I thought the alliance would help if I could just talk to them. It was a mistake.”

Peri blinked. He should have been there with me? But then her focus blurred. Opti torched my apartment? She hadn’t moved because of a fire; she’d moved to get away from the memory of Allen being thrown off the balcony after going through the … bulletproof … window. How can he go through a window that can’t break?

“Peri,” Silas said, jerking her back to reality. “I need you to find a chip Jack hid. It’s a list of Bill’s corrupt drafters, and if you can get it to me, I can get you out. You’ll be safe. The alliance needs a reason to trust you.”

Breathless, Peri glanced at the picture, inching forward when Silas took the Glock and backed up. It was a photo of her and … “That’s you,” she said, looking at Jack, and he winced, nodding. “That’s you and me—”

“In the outback, last New Year’s,” Jack finished, and her face went cold.

“My God. Who are you?” she said, staring at him, and he shrugged, bewildered.

“I don’t know. But this guy trusts you, and Allen doesn’t.”

Vertigo took her as she realized it was true. “Hold still,” she said, cautiously reachingout to Jack, then staggering when her hand passed through him. Heat flashed through her, and she felt unreal. “Shit, shit, shit …,” she mumbled, backing up with her hand gripping her pendant pen. “You’re not real, and I’m going crazy.”

“No. I told you, you’re becoming sane,” Silas said, and she stood there, shocked when he tossed the Glock to her and it hit her palm with a soft and certain thump.

“Oh, man … I’m a hallucination?” Jack put a dramatic hand to his chest. “This is very bad for my asthma.”

Peri’s heart pounded. She’d said that herself a hundred times. It meant she’d forgotten something, something important.

“Here’s my number.” Silas grabbed her hand and wrote it scrawling on her palm, ignoring the weapon in her other hand. “Find that list and I can get you out. If we can prove Opti is corrupt, it’s all over. Isn’t that what you want? For it to be over?”

He jumped from the stage, turning to look up at her. “Jack is your intuition, Peri. Trust him as you would trust yourself. He only knows what you do or suspect. He’s not real.”

Peri looked at Jack, and the man winced. “He’s right. But that’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Oh, and in case you’re wondering, you didn’t draft.” Silas turned and ran, his steps loud in the echoing space until the door squeaked shut. Peri took a shaky breath. Jack was looking at the picture, and she inched forward, not sure how to talk to a hallucination, especially one of a man she’d killed. “How did he know I was worried about drafting?” Peri wondered out loud.

“My guess is he’s an anchor,” Jack said.

She closed her hand to hide the number. Confused, Peri picked up the picture. She and Jack were standing before a fire gone to coals. She didn’t remember it, but she felt centered as she looked at their tired, dirty, smiling faces. “This is not right,” she whispered.

“You’re telling me, babe.”

They both looked to the exit at the unmistakable sound of cars screeching to a halt outside. She jumped, stuffing the photo down her shirt when the thunderous boom of the outer doors being flung open echoed.

“Peri?” came Bill’s bellow over the calls of Opti forces.

“Back here,” she whispered, wide eyes looking at the ink on her hand as if it were blood. “Here!” she called out louder, arms going up and dangling her Glock from a finger when a dozen Opti agents boiled into the auditorium through all three doors, screaming at her not to move. “It’s just me,” she griped as they swarmed over the space and then moved to the unseen back. The three remaining with her took the pistol and screamed at her some more. She ignored them, relieved when Bill strode in and told them in a very loud voice to back off.