"And the person watching the building?"
Dax went still.
"How do you know about the watcher?" he said.
"Because," Emory said carefully, "I put them there."
REMI'S POV
I woke at seven-fifteen to the smell of coffee and something that took me a moment to identify — pastry. Buttery, warm, the kind that means someone has been up long enough to either bake or go out and come back.
I put on the oversized shirt and the cotton shorts that were becoming my default morning state and went to the kitchen. The ginger crackers on the nightstand had stayed untouched — the nausea that had defined the first trimester had mostly retreated in the past week, replaced by a steadier, less dramatic hunger that announced itself at inconvenient times and required actual food rather than just crackers. I was f
