CHAPTER 8
JACOB
Sophie is unusually quiet on the walk to the Sparrow offices, those darkened red lips of hers pressed tight as we slip out of the fundraiser and out of sight.
I watch her, wondering if I've crossed some new line.
From the little I got to personally know the brunette vixen, she's usually more talkative than this. The Sophie I'd met back in Seattle would relish at the opportunity to tell me to politely self-fornicate with the nearest sharp object within reach.
But tonight's Sophie—this Sophie—is a little different.
A little more distant. A little more secretive. A little more...guarded. Or at least, as guarded as anyone can be around someone like me.
It's why I became the kind of doctor I am. I pick people apart. Analyzing them. Studying them.
And Sophie--with her tig
