The Complication (The Program #6)(49)

I laugh, appreciating his sense of humor right now.

“But if you decide to break and enter,” he adds, “I’ll go with you. You know, just to make sure they don’t strap you down and erase your mind.”

“You’re the best,” I say.

He turns to face the frosted-glass door. “Let’s do this,” he murmurs, and pulls it open, both of us exchanging a surprised glance to find it’s not locked.

Nathan and I walk inside and ease the door shut behind us. There’s no receptionist like there used to be. No art on the walls. There’s only an empty desk and several chairs stacked up beside it. The door to the back offices is closed—the place where they took my false memories and implanted them into Wes’s brain, creating a situation we couldn’t come back from. It was their fault he had to be reset again. It was their fault because they knew I’d been in The Program, and they adjusted him anyway.

So why did they trust my memories? They should have known better.

“Do we wait for someone to come out?” I ask, looking at Nathan. He snorts a laugh.

“Absolutely not,” he says simply, and opens the door to the back offices.

My pulse spikes, and I follow closely behind him. There is a soft murmur of voices coming from the end of the hallway, and Nathan and I continue in that direction.

Dr. McKee’s office door is shut, but whatever meeting is going on is behind a different closed door. It takes me a moment to realize it’s the treatment room—where they give the Adjustments. My stomach feels sick. Are they performing an Adjustment right now? After everything that happened, they should be shut down.

Nathan must sense my growing fury, because he reaches out to touch my hand. But I won’t let them hurt anyone else—risk any more lives.

I pull away from Nathan and rush forward, grabbing the handle of the treatment room door and busting in. I startle the people inside, and Dr. McKee lets out a little yelp. Marie clutches her chest. And sitting between them, casually swinging her legs over the edge of her chair, is Jana Simms.

There is no procedure happening, although there are files laid out on the table, a scan pulled up on the computer screen that they seem to have been discussing. Jana is the only one who doesn’t flinch, but I watch as the color drains from her face. Her eyes drift past me to Nathan. I feel his presence behind me, hanging just inside the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in a voice so intimate you would think it was just the two of them. Before Jana can answer, Marie gets to her feet and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, Nathan,” Marie says. “What are you doing here? Did you break in?”

“The door was open,” he responds, hostile. He looks past her. “Jana,” he calls, waiting for an answer.

At first, I’m worried that Jana is here for an Adjustment, and it doesn’t make any sense. She doesn’t need one. But as I look around the room, I notice the files and notes, pens out. She has a coffee near her, an old sandwich wrapper. She’s been here awhile. She . . . belongs here.

Jana isn’t here as a patient. It must hit Nathan at the same moment, because he curses under his breath.

“Who are you?” he demands.

“Nathan, calm down,” Jana says, keeping her voice steady. But her eyes are too wide. Too innocent. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, you have no idea what I’m thinking,” he says coldly. “But the past couple days are starting to make some sense.”

I look from Nathan to Jana, the tension ratcheting up. Nathan was suspicious, and it turns out he had a right to be. It also means Jana did know the truth about me. She must have if she’s involved with these doctors.

“This is a private facility,” Dr. McKee says, as if he’s never met us before. I turn on him fiercely, and I watch his pretend professionalism falter.

“Who are you?” Nathan asks Jana again, but this time his voice is pleading.

“Jana,” Marie says in warning. But Jana looks over her shoulder at her, her expression miserable, and shakes her head.

“That’s not my name,” Jana says. Marie closes her eyes, frustrated, and Jana turns back to Nathan. “My name is Melody,” she says to him. “I used to . . . I used to be a handler. I used to be a lot of things.”

I’m not sure what Nathan thought she was going to say—I don’t even know what I thought—but he rocks back on his heels. I put my palm on his back, reminding him that I’m here for him.

“Foster was right,” Nathan says. “I should have known; he’s always right. He didn’t trust you, and he told me you were hiding something. But I defended you.” Nathan’s voice crackles with hurt. “I fucking defended you.”

“That’s enough,” Dr. McKee says, coming over to put his hand on Jana’s shoulder. Melody. “You need to leave,” he tells us. “This is a private facility.” He shifts his eyes over to me, and there is a moment of apology there. I pounce.

“We’re not leaving,” I say. “You owe me an explanation. And she”—I jab my finger in Melody’s direction—“owes Nathan a little clarification.”

Marie’s hard stance behind Dr. McKee eases. “It’s time to tell her, Tom,” she says, surprising me. “She already knows anyway.”