Free From the Ashes by Jeremy Burns Page B

asked.”
    Jon looked at her hand, which was caressing her pendant again. A comfort object, he supposed. A fitting choice for someone who had majored in Religious Studies like Mara had. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My mouth got away from me there.”
    “It’s alright.” Mara gave him a crooked half-smile. “We’re both a little messed up right now. I think an extra dose of patience might be in order.”
    Jon nodded. “Sounds good. So did he say exactly what this government cover-up or whatever was supposed to be?”
    “Not to me. I think he might have been a little afraid... for me, at least. He didn’t want the ideas to get out before he could back them up.” She chuckled softly. “I thought it was kinda cute. Nice and chivalric and all, defending me from enemies unknown.” Then she fixed him with a gaze that seemed curiously cold. “He was really excited to tell you about it though. Figured you’d be proud of him. His adventuring buddy.”
    Jon blinked, cocked his head querulously, but the look in her eyes was gone just as soon as it had appeared. Or maybe it had never been there at all. He sat quietly, looking pensive as he furrowed his brow and stroked the stubble on his chin.
    “What?” Mara asked. No trace of the coldness. Must’ve been my imagination, Jon thought. Too much, too soon.
    “Can I borrow the key to Michael’s place?” he asked.
    “Sure, but why?”
    He pointed a thumb toward the door. “I wanna go over there and check it out. See what he was working on. Research-wise.”
    “Okay...” Mara reached into her purse and withdrew her keys. “The cops cleared out pretty quick. Declared it a suicide, took the... took him to the morgue, and cleaned up the scene. Shouldn’t be any issues.”
    “Do you want to come with? You’ve been there since I have... you could show me around and stuff.”
    Mara shook her head vigorously. “Not yet, Jon. I can’t go back there just yet.”
    “That’s fine.” He nodded and patted her hand. “I understand.”
    “Michael’s research should be on his laptop and in a red notebook he keeps either on his desk or in his backpack.”
    “The old beige one?”
    Mara smiled a little. “That’s the one.”
    “Ha! He’s still using that... oh,” he said, suddenly realizing that he’d used the wrong verb tense. Across the table, Mara frowned.
    “Alright,” Jon said, “I’ll meet you back at your apartment, then? Say in an hour-and-a-half?”
    “Yeah, that works.” The pair disposed of their trash and headed for the exit. Stopping just outside the restaurant, Mara grabbed his arm and gave him an anxious look.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Just...” She looked away briefly, then met his eyes again. “Be careful, all right?”

Chapter 8
    Langley, Virginia
    Harrison Greer tightened his grip on the receiver, his palms beginning to sweat. He was pacing his office aimlessly, too nervous to stand still, too full of pent-up rage to sit down.
    “I want a second opinion,” he bellowed into the phone.
    “I am the second opinion, Mr. Greer.” The doctor’s voice was calm and measured. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a conversation like this. And it wouldn’t be the last. “Several of my colleagues have looked at the results, and the conclusion is, sadly, indisputable. I’m very sorry, sir. But there are options for cases such as yourself.”
    Greer tried to swallow away the growing lump in his throat, but to no avail. “You say it’s inoperable and chemo and radiation therapy won’t do any good. What the hell options are there, in your esteemed second opinion?”
    The doctor’s voice remained measured as he ignored Greer’s sarcasm. “Well, sir, we can put you in touch with a very good hospice service-”
    Greer cursed at the man through the receiver and hung up. He flung the phone onto his desk, cursing again as he punched the side of one of the filing cabinets, leaving a large dent in the metal. He stopped when he realized he was