Isabel said as they cruised through the Pearl. She was right. It was a funky part of town, formerly full of warehouses and railroad yards and now gentrified but artsy. No high-rises, no corporate buildings. “Just wait,” he said as he turned onto the street where the back entrance to ASI was. He didn’t want to say anything because he wanted to see how she reacted to the business’s premises. “Okay.” Joe shot her a glance. She looked rested. Thank God. That nightmare had shaken him to the core. She’d been mewling and moaning, thrashing in the bed. It had been a monster nightmare. He’d kept calm but what she’d told him could only mean one thing. Her memories were returning in the form of dreams. Nightmares. And if Mystery Man was right, she was remembering something that was worse than a terrorist attack. Mystery Man wanted the FBI because he suspected homegrown terrorists. Worse. Homegrown terrorists who might be connected to the government. At least 9/11 had been carried out by foreigners.
