The air on the other side of the prison fence didn't smell like anything special, but Rachel paused and inhaled deeply. Outside. For a moment, she felt lightheaded, like champagne bubbles were fizzing from her chest to her head.

She stepped on the feeling, then followed Jason Umlaut into the parking lot, where the ‘car’ turned out to be a lumbering RV with a uniformed driver.

"We going camping?" Rachel asked.

Jason Umlaut opened the RV door. "More like hunting."

She rubbed the back of her neck. This whole setup made her nervous. If Senator Theroux had the Driggers, that meant Rachel's father was involved. Somehow. But she didn't see how. "Let me ask you something."

"Shoot."

"I'm the only person qualified for this work release program?"

"That's correct."

"Just how bad is this job?"

"Pretty bad," he admitted. "But you're going to take it."

She looked at him, hard enough to leave a mark. "You think you know me?"

For once, he seemed unperturbed. "I’m good at my job, Ms. Kravitz," he told her, and disappeared inside.

She followed him, still half-expecting an alarm to sound. Didn't happen. Instead, she stepped into an RV that looked like a motel suite, with a desk and chairs, a kitchenette and a bench that converted into a bed. Completely empty, except for a black wheelie suitcase on the bench and a laptop open on the desk.

Jason Umlaut pointed to the chair. "Please."

Rachel sat facing the laptop and found herself looking at a picture of a hard-faced woman in her seventies.

"That's Senator Theroux?" Rachel asked. "How long have you worked for her?"

"Five years," Jason said.

"Really? You don't look much older than me."

"I’m twenty-seven. And you don't look much younger than me."

"Thanks," Rachel said. "What every twenty-two-year-old woman wants to hear."

"I didn't mean that. I just mean … you know." He flushed. "The newspaper called you 'preternaturally mature.'"

"Yeah," she said. "I didn't fidget."

He gave a tremulous smile. "Was that your secret?"

"So what do you want?" she asked. "What's the job?"

"I’ll defer to the senator," he said, and nodded to the laptop.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

The picture flickered, and was replaced by a video of Senator Theroux. She didn’t look any softer in motion, despite the careful makeup and matronly bun of gray hair.

She said, "Ms. Kravitz."

Rachel waited for more, but the video just sat there, watching her.

"This isn’t pre-recorded, Ms. Kravitz," the Senator said. "This is a video conference."

"Oh, right," Rachel said, having spent years in a place where video conferencing didn't happen. "I’m still waiting for the part where I wake up."

The senator didn’t smile. "You must be wondering what this is all about."

"The Drigger family told you to contact me, or at least you think that's what they told you. There's a new player in DC, been around for a couple of years now, trying to pull my father's research together. Trying to replace him, maybe. What happened, he stumbled on something? You're scared of him?" She couldn't read the senator's reactions but she kept talking anyway: "Yeah, you're scared of him, and you want my advice, because nobody knows my father's research better than I do."

The senator stared at her, in sharp surprise. "You--that's remarkable."

Rachel shrugged. "I learned from the master."

"Not completely correct, though."

"No?"

"I've pored over your file, Ms. Kravitz. I watched the video. You shot your father in the head from two feet behind him."

"I remember."

"You never explained why you shot him."

She shrugged. "I remember that, too."

"People speculated that he abused you or your sister--but he didn't, did he?"

"He never touched us, not the way you mean."

"He tried to ... change you?"

Rachel listened to the hum of the fridge in the corner, and thought about the hum of other machines, hundreds of miles and thousands of days away.

"He tried to change you into a … what did he call them?" Senator Thoreaux thought for a moment, though Rachel figured she already knew the answer. "'Actives'?"

"Yeah," Rachel said. "That or 'longshots.'"

"You and your sister both."

"He tried, but look at me. Totally passive."

"I believe 'inert' is his term," she said. "And your sister?"

Rachel didn't say anything. He'd only tried with Audrey once, the night she'd seen them returning from the observatory. She remembered standing over his body, the gun weighing a hundred pounds in her hand, crying like a baby and thinking, Why didn't you listen? I warned you. I told you what I'd do if you touched her.

The senator tapped a key on her computer. "I have a job offer for you, Ms. Kravitz."

"Yeah, Umlaut told me."

"Pardon?"

"What's the job? Entry-level cabinetmaking?"

"A better match to your skills." The senator's eyes shifted. "Jason?"

Jason slid a piece of paper across the table to Rachel.

Rachel glanced down. "Elevator Mechanic for the GPO? That’s the Republican Party?"

That time, the senator smiled. "They’re the GOP. The GPO is the Government Printing Office."

"What kind of print shop has an elevator?"

"One that is based in an antiquated, two-million-square-foot building with nine stories."

"Uh-huh." Rachel read the ‘job duties’ section: "Checks and repairs problems in loop circuits. Realigns rails, and splices or renews electrical wires and conduits."

She set the paper down and waited for the explanation. She didn't know a single thing about fixing elevators, but of course that didn't matter. This wasn't about repairing circuits and conduits.

"I want you on my payroll, Ms. Kravitz." The senator showed her a chilly smile. "The Driggers want you on my payroll. I designed this position specifically for you. Nobody, of course, expects you to do anything with an elevator except occasionally ride in one. The pay is adequate, and the benefits exceptional."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever I tell you."

"I'm twenty-two years old and spent the past five inside. What are my qualifications?"

"You're your father's daughter."

Rachel let that slide. "Where is this? In DC? My sister--Audrey’s got a life here."

"You're not a fool, Rachel. Will Audrey's life be better with her big sister, who shot her father, living in the same house? Or will her life be better if you stay far, far across the country?"

Rachel swallowed. She loved Audrey, and she'd try to protect Audrey--even from herself. She knew that if she jumped back into the cesspit of Boone's life, she might drag some ugly things home. Dangerous things. But why bother? For 'adequate pay and exceptional benefits?' Why not hold out until the parole hearing? Sure, she dreaded returning to the prison, but that wasn't a good enough reason for Rachel. She could live with dread.

She looked at the old lady for a long minute. "What aren't you telling me?"

The senator cleared her throat. "Your father is alive."