“Who was the other man?”
“We never found out.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because Atlas knew.”
The dog looked at Vance.
“He attacked the impostor.”
Naomi's breathing stopped.
The memory returned.
A man running.
Atlas lunging.
A gunshot.
Her falling.
Daniel screaming.
And another man shouting:
“Get the dog!”
She opened her eyes.
“I remember.”
Daniel moved toward her.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“The shooter wasn't trying to kill me.”
Vance stared.
“What do you remember?”
“He was trying to take Atlas.”
Vance nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Atlas had smelled the real Vance.”
Naomi frowned.
“I don't understand.”
“Your investigation depended on identifying handlers by scent and contact patterns.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That's not possible.”
“It was,” Vance said.
Naomi looked at Atlas.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“And someone wanted him because he could recognize them.”
“Yes.”
She whispered:
“That's why they kept trying to take him.”
Vance nodded.
“And that's why you kept protecting him.”
Naomi looked at Atlas.
The dog pressed against her leg.
She closed her eyes.
For six years she had thought Atlas was simply the animal who had helped her recover.
Now she understood.
He had been the last witness to a crime nobody wanted remembered.
The room remained silent.
Then Naomi's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Carter.”
No one spoke.
Then a voice came through.
Male.
Distorted.
“You should have stayed forgotten.”
Naomi looked at Vance.
He had heard it too.
The caller continued.
“Now you've made it worse.”
Naomi said nothing.
“You were warned.”
“Who are you?”
A laugh.
“You know.”
The call ended.
Naomi lowered the phone.
Daniel stared.
Vance looked toward the window.
“It has started.”
“What?”
“The purge.”
“What purge?”
Vance turned toward her.
“Everyone connected to Northstar is going to disappear.”
Naomi's face hardened.
“Not everyone.”
Vance looked at her.
She picked up her sunglasses.
“We're going to find them first.”
She looked at Daniel.
Then Vance.
Then Atlas.
“For six years they thought they were investigating a woman who forgot.”
She opened the door.
“They were wrong.”
She stepped into the hallway.
“I remembered enough.”
And somewhere far away, inside another quiet suburban office, a man received a message.
CARTER REMEMBERS.
He stared at it.
Then typed one reply.
ACTIVATE NORTHSTAR.
The machine that had been sleeping for six years began to move again.
But this time, Naomi Carter was awake.