The lights of Lake City met us within an hour and a half. It was still dark as anything when we arrived, but Henry seemed to know where to go. I hadn't spoken any more to him. In fact, I was exhausted enough that I drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the ride. I saw street lamps and buildings as if in a dream, and I woke up only when Henry told me to. We were outside a small medical building, way in the back of its parking lot. There were few cars, but Henry had parked as far away as he could, definitely away from any lights. For a moment, I shook my groggy head, but then I realized where we were.

I reached for the door handle, but Henry took hold of my arm again, gripped it a little too tightly. "Stop it!" I instinctively snapped.

"Bring him back with you. Half an hour. Don't give anyone information, and don't make me find you."

I yanked free of his grip, and he let me go. What did he think I was, his prisoner? If he'd said my name again, I might have felt more warmth as I left the jeep, but as it was, the cold air caused me to hug my jacket tighter around myself. I approached the well-lit building cautiously. It was the middle of the night; what would I say? And then it struck me that I didn't even know Paolo's last name. Would they even let me in to see him? Should I just walk right in and talk to people--or should I sneak in? No, that would be stupid. This place didn't look like somewhere I could sneak around in.

By the time I'd run through a variety of options, I was at the glass doors and pushing my way through, as if I were on autopilot. I figured the best thing would be for me to be as honest as possible without saying too much.

I walked straight to the reception area, but no one was there. Looking around, I thought the place had a nice feel to it; there were comfortable chairs, reading materials, and low-lit lamps in a waiting area. There were some holiday decorations around which reminded me that special days even existed--I hadn't had a proper Christmas or Thanksgiving ever, as far as I could remember. But there were no people.

A receptionist or nurse or somebody had to be somewhere around, but Henry had said half an hour. I wasn't really concerned that being late would anger him; I was more concerned that being late would make him leave, and then I'd definitely not find him again. So I started down one of the halls. Fortunately, it wasn't a big building, so I didn't have to do much to find Paolo. I just peeped into the rooms as I passed, and I found him in literally the fourth room I tried. He was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, fully clothed, and when he saw me, he practically jumped up. "Nadia?"

I slipped through the door, shut it as quickly and quietly as I could, and walked toward him. Seeing him again, that feeling of shame rose in me--shame for letting that stranger just run off with him when he could've been dying for all I knew. Obviously it had turned out all right, but I hadn't known that it would. That wasn't even the worst of my guilt, though--deep inside, I knew I would've done it again if it were a choice between leaving with him and meeting Henry.

Paolo was so . . . so attractive, though. He just was. He was one of those people who was charming and beautiful and even though he might have known it, he didn't come off that way. He shook slightly on his feet and sat back down on the bed again, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to get it together enough to come find you."

I passed him his cell phone. "You had altitude sickness, from going up the mountain."

He closed his eyes for a moment, to remember perhaps. "Yeah, someone said that when I got here."

"What's happened, here?"

"I don't remember a lot. I was . . . with you . . . and then I was here. They hooked me up with some oxygen, and an IV . . . and I slept for a few hours. Then I woke up a while ago and realized you weren't with me. Someone came in and talked to me--tried to get my story, but I just said I didn't know what had happened. They said I'd been dropped off, decided to let me sleep until morning. But the minute they left I took out that IV, got dressed--did you drive my car?"

I choked on a response. "We can talk about that later. I need to get you out of here. Are you ok to move?"

He was standing up before I was done talking. "Absolutely. That was my plan."

We made our way back to the front of the building, which wasn't far, but I stopped in the lobby. Half an hour, Henry had said. Half an hour. And I'd maybe used about ten minutes. I had enough time to tell Paolo what had happened. But where could we go? I didn't want to stay in the building, but Henry would no doubt see us if we went out the front door.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

I couldn't take him outside, yet. I had to explain to him about Henry. Looking around, I saw an alcove by the front window, out of the sight of anyone who might enter into the lobby. I beckoned for Paolo to follow me, and we stepped into it. There was a door, there, probably to an office, but it was locked, and there was otherwise no way to see into it from the outside, certainly not from the front windows.

"What is it?" he asked. "Let's get out of here. Is my car out front?"

I shook my head. "No. No, Paolo. Listen to me. You got so sick so fast--there was someone who helped. A . . . some tourists who happened to be there. And they drove you down here."

"Really? I don't remember it very well." He frowned. "There was a car ride, though . . . I was so nauseated. And dizzy. Ugh. It was awful." He sighed. "I'm so sorry I screwed it up for you. We came all this way for nothing."

"Well . . . that's what I need to talk about." I hesitated, then said, "I found him, Paolo. I found Henry."

"He was there? He came?"

"Yes."

Paolo looked at me incredulously. "Ok--where is he? Is he here?"

"Yes, outside, waiting for us."

"So he knows I'm here? That I was with you, even though he said not to be?"

I nodded slowly.

Lifting his hands in a sort of questioning gesture, Paolo asked, "Why are we here, then? What's going on?"

I sighed. "He's . . . different. He's . . . not very nice."

"Has he hurt you?"

"No, but--"

"Nadia, if he isn't acting right, I'll have to--."

"No! That's exactly what I don't want you to do--get angry with him, antagonize him. I'm worried about him. I don't know how much of himself he is. People probably tortured him--or did something to his brain. Just please promise me you'll go along with it for now? You'll just let it go, whatever he says or does? If you can't do that, then . . . then you can't come with me."

Paolo lowered his brow. Shook his head. The air around us grew a little tense. "First, there's no way I'm letting you just go off alone with this guy if he's acting strange. And there's no way I'll let it go if he tries to do something. But . . . I'll keep my mouth shut as long as he isn't hurting you."

I nodded in thanks. "There's another thing."

"What?"

"I don't have any idea where he wants to go. I just got in the car with him, and I'm going wherever he's going. I don't know if you want to do that, Paolo. You don't have to come with us."

Inching a little closer than he already was, Paolo leaned toward me ever-so-slightly. The alcove was small; there was nowhere to go, and no reason to want to go there. "I told you I wasn't going to leave you with him."

"I've known him longer than I've known you."

"But I'm better-looking." He smiled that ridiculously attractive smile.

"Maybe. You've never seen him." I found myself smiling back. He made me so agitated--but I loved it.

"Let's go find out, then."

The moment Paolo stepped back and out into the lobby, I found myself breathing regularly. What had just happened? Had I been . . . flirting? Who was I?

There was no time to dwell on an answer, though. Paolo called to me, and we left the lobby through the same glass doors. A receptionist had actually arrived at the desk and said something to us as we went, but neither of us looked back. The parking lot was dark, and leaving the well-lit lobby was a bit jarring, but I knew where Henry had parked, so I just kept moving toward the back of the lot. Paolo walked by my side, not behind, not in front. He was beside me, and I felt stronger for his presence. I couldn't fathom what Henry would make of him or what he'd make of Henry, and I worried about their meeting.

As we approached the car, I saw Henry standing outside of it, leaning back against the hood. He was in all dark clothing--dark jeans, a dark sweatshirt--how he contrasted with Paolo, who seemed a fan of color. I didn't know if I could handle them if they didn't get along. When Henry spotted us, he got back into the jeep and waited. Paolo and I glanced at one another and then closed the distance to the car. Both of us instinctively got into the back seat. As much as I wanted to keep Henry, I felt safer with Paolo.

Henry's pale eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. What was he thinking about Paolo? But he said nothing, started the car, began driving. Neither Paolo nor I asked where we were going; it didn't matter much in that moment. After some time spent in quiet, I felt myself drifting into sleep, and Paolo, noticing, put an arm around me and pulled me toward him, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. I had no time to wonder at his affection before I fell asleep.

When I woke, daylight greeted me. The previous night had felt so long that I couldn't remember being happier to see the sun. The car had stopped, and I was alone in it. I sat up so quickly that my head swam for a moment. My body felt cramped from sleeping in the car, too. But what concerned me more was that neither Henry nor Paolo were with me. A quick look told me we were again in the middle of nowhere. We'd pulled off a two-lane road and appeared to be next to nothing but fields which eventually sloped upward into low hills. I worried for a brief moment that I'd been abandoned, but then I heard voices behind me, and I turned to see both Henry and Paolo. They weren't speaking loudly, but they were definitely speaking. What were they saying to each other? Paolo was frowning, arguing . . . lifted his arms as if to express frustration. Henry was calm and cool as he'd been since I found him, probably just as rude, too . . . but what were they saying?

I tried to listen in, but, being unable to, I decided to just wait it out. Maybe they'd raise their voices, and I'd catch some words. A sinking sensation rose in me as I sat there, though. They were complete strangers as far as I knew--unless somehow they weren't, if Paolo knew Henry because . . . because he was involved with the Circuit too . . . had been from the start . . .

Some part of me swelled, with embarrassment--with disappointment--with simmering resentment. Then with doubt toward myself. I was playing mental games again; I'd been here already. I'd given in to the belief that Paolo was for me. I'd reconciled myself to the fact that he was doing everything for me because he genuinely liked me, as he'd said. I didn't want to go backward in my trust . . . but what was he saying to Henry?

They were coming back to the car. I shut my eyes, leaned my head against the window. Let them both get in without making it obvious I'd been awake. I could pretend, too.

"Nadia," Paolo put a hand on my shoulder.

I shifted, stretched, yawned.

"There's a rest stop ahead. You okay until we get there?"

I nodded. Then I glanced toward Henry, who hadn't turned or said anything at all. If Paolo were lying to me, I'd be crushed, but I'd also hate him. Henry might be confusing and frustrating, but at least he was what he was. I remembered Mac, who'd pretended to be a friend and then turned on me. I couldn't take that kind of deception . . . it was worse than the most horrible honesty.

We reached the rest stop without any further conversation, and then I went and spent some time in there. I got out the bag of essentials I'd packed way back at the Hineses' house and brushed my teeth, styled my hair as best I could, and washed my face. I had some spare clothes, but what I'd packed had been for the weather in San Judo; it was chillier here, so I left my warmer clothes on. I also checked how much money I still had and was relieved that it was more than I'd thought it was. More than taking care of myself, though, I just wanted to kill some time. After witnessing those two having a conversation that I was clearly not intended to be a part of, I had to retreat back into myself a little, put walls back into place. I'd been stupid to let Paolo get through to me, and I couldn't fall prey to blind trust again. I was here for Henry, I reminded myself. I had to focus. But I could also play games, if that's what was necessary.

When I eventually came out of the restroom, it was to find Paolo waiting for me in the common area between the men's and women's bathrooms. I assumed Henry was back at the car.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, some concern in his voice.

I nodded. "Fine," was all I said, and I walked past him to the door.

He might have wanted to say something more, but people were coming into the building, so he instead followed me back out into the sunshine and caught up to me. "Can I talk to you?"

"Talk."

"Before we go back."

I paused, and Paolo motioned me off the path toward a grassy area with picnic tables and a playground with zero kids playing on it.

He wasn't smiling or anywhere close to it. This wasn't the playful Paolo I'd seen the day before, when we'd walked around Silverton and hiked up to Animas Forks. He was all concern. "Something is really off with him." He indicated Henry with a tip of his head.

"I know that already. I told you he wasn't himself."

"And I don't know what past you two have, I get that, but I think he's a psychopath."

The word jarred me; I grimaced. "That's a little intense."

"Nadia, I was trying to have a conversation with him about where we were going. He wouldn't answer."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"It was more . . . the feel of it, though. The vibe is off. There's stuff he doesn't want to say. We know nothing about him--"

"You know nothing about him. You, Paolo. I told you this was how it was going to be. I've got nothing back in San Judo--literally nothing. I've got no life anywhere behind me. I've been waiting for months just for this--to find Henry. He's the only chance I've got at a future." Someone laughed off to the side of us, and I was momentarily distracted, but then I turned back to Paolo. "Henry is the key to my memory," I stated firmly. "Or, at least, he has access to the key. If I ever want to know anything about myself, it's going to happen when I'm with him. There's a lot . . . between us. I can't explain it all. But if you don't want to come, I understand that. You actually have something to go home to."

Paolo frowned, said quietly, "Not really. I might have my memories, but they aren't exactly worth remembering."

I looked up into his eyes again, and I knew that I'd been lying to myself if I'd thought I could build back up a wall between us. I knew myself less and less around Paolo.

I sighed, took hold of my left elbow with my right hand, shifted my weight a little. "Why were you angry at him, back when we stopped along the road?"

"You saw that?" I nodded, and he smiled a little sheepishly, which made him all the more irresistible. "I wanted to know where we were going, but he wouldn't talk to me, so I . . . I threatened him a little. Just a little! I know, I know. You said don't antagonize. That's why I didn't talk to him in front of you. There's no way I can have a civil conversation with that . . . but I told him if he hurt you, I'd kill him."

I raised my eyebrows. "Paolo, no! You--"

"It doesn't matter. He didn't care."

My brow lowered as quickly as it had risen. "What do you mean, he didn't care?"

"Said . . . he said . . ." He clearly didn't want to tell me.

"What did he say?"

"That he was as good as dead, anyway. And he laughed, Nadia. Just . . . laughed. A creepy laugh. It was just weird."

I didn't know what to say, but I did know that, contrary to thinking Henry was a psychopath, I now felt more than ever that he needed my help . . . if only he'd let me help him.