“No. It’s fine.”
“What is in the box, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The . . . same things.”
“The fox?” Bolden asked.
Alistair felt a flush of cold wash over her. A chilly current reaching out of the dark place where her memories used to be.
Alistair responded with a short, reticent nod.
“The snow-covered path?”
Another faint nod. The cold current wrapping around her legs, up her body.
“What else?”
“We’re not supposed to talk about the things in the box,” Alistair said, her voice unintentionally breaking into a whisper. “You said—”
Bolden was speaking, saying something about Alistair’s past episodes, but the droning was so loud now Alistair could feel the vibration in her body.
She could see the tops of several green trees framed in Bolden’s office window, swaying in the hot air
