CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Kent?”
The shattered remains of the teacup lay between them—Reid, just inside the door to the apartment, and the woman, the gray-eyed Johansson from his memory, just beyond the small adjacent kitchen. Her face drained of color. Her bottom lip trembled.
“You…” She shook her head, and her blonde hair shook with it. “You’re dead.”
People keep telling me that, he thought, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know this woman. Maybe he had, once, but he didn’t now.
“I don’t… I just…” she stammered, at a loss for words. “Is it really you?”
He didn’t know what to say. He decided on the only thing that made sense to him in the moment: “Yeah. It’s me.”
“God. You look like hell.” She let out a short laugh. “Kent, I just can’t believe this!” She moved to take a step forward, b
