Chapter 8

~Thursday 09 July, 2026~

7:02 PM

The apartment building was easy enough to find. It was in a location Mike often drove by on his way to work. There was no buzzer, so he was able to quickly make his way up to Amber’s floor. Balancing the pizza box on one hand, Mike knocked on her door with the other.

There was a muffled thump from inside Amber’s apartment. “Shit!”

Mike smiled.

Another thump. “Coming!”

Something scraped across the floor. “Don’t judge me!”

“I haven’t seen anything yet,” Mike called through the door.

“Preemptive instructions.”

The lock clicked and she opened the door. Mike forgot about the pizza.

Amber was barefoot, wearing a pair of jeans and a light-blue blouse. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, although several strands had escaped around her face. Her thin-framed glasses sat on her nose, making her look both smart and adorable.

Mike’s smile widened.

Amber immediately narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mike chuckled.

“You were about to,” she pointed at him.

“I was just going to say hello,” he said.

“No, you were going to say something about a librarian.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mike smirked. “I’ll make sure to return any books I borrow on time.”

“You’d better,” Amber laughed lightly. “You couldn’t afford my late fees.”

“I believe you,” he replied smoothly. “Can I come in?”

“Depends,” she said coyly. “What kind of pizza?”

“Half pepperoni, half mushroom and onion,” Mike answered.

Amber stepped aside. “I did say I’d hold you to a meal. Way to impress a lady.”

“I try.”

The apartment wasn’t large. Living room and dining area shared the main space, with a small kitchen off to one side. A short hallway led deeper into the apartment, with a couple of doors that were likely a bedroom and a bathroom. A couch and armchair faced a television mounted on the wall. Crowded bookshelves occupied most of the space.

Mike looked around the apartment before looking at Amber.

“What?” she asked shyly.

“You cleaned,” he grinned.

Amber closed the door. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I could hear you moving things around before you answered the door,” Mike told her. “Oh, and you warned me your apartment looked like an archaeological site.”

“It did!” Amber insisted.

“I can see the floor,” he replied.

“I relocated the archaeological site,” she said, pointing to the dining area.

The dining table was covered with photographs, notebooks, books, pencils, a laptop, a ruler, and stacks of papers. Several cardboard boxes sat underneath it, overflowing with what appeared to be more books and papers. Another couple of boxes sat on the chairs.

Mike nodded. “Very professional. Shoving things in boxes and hiding them under the table.”

“Just don’t look in my closet,” she smirked.

Mike chuckled as he carried the pizza toward the kitchen counter. His eyes wandered to the bookshelves as he passed. It wasn’t surprising that archaeology occupied a significant amount of space. Indigenous cultures of the Northeast, field methodology, lithic analysis, landscape archaeology. Several titles Mike couldn’t make sense of without stopping to read them.

Then the books changed. Fantasy. Thrillers. There was even an entire shelf containing covers featuring attractive people in varying amounts of clothing. Mike stopped to examine them, noticing the books were from the romantasy category that she had admitted to enjoying.

Amber noticed and paused. “Don’t.”

He looked closer. “Is that a dragon?”

“Mike.”

“Why is that guy riding a dragon shirtless?” Mike asked.

“Why do women always pose bending over?” Amber countered with a raised brow.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “I was just impressed with your collection of magic dragon word porn.”

Her cheeks reddened immediately. “I told you dragons aren’t required.”

“So you admit the other parts are?” Mike looked at her. “Including the six-pack abs?”

“I invited you here to discuss an archaeological discovery.”

“And I brought dinner,” he shrugged. “Neither have anything to do with this very impressive collection.”

Amber walked over and physically turned him by the shoulders. “Kitchen.”

Mike laughed as she shoved him. “So aggressive. Should I give you my safe word?”

“Keep going,” she growled, urging him forward.

“Somebody’s defensive,” he observed.

“Somebody can eat his pizza in the hallway.”

“Why? So you can have some private time with your fantasy word porn?” Mike teased as he finally put the box on the counter.

Amber ignored his question as she retrieved two plates from a cabinet. “Want a beer?”

“That sounds great,” he replied. “Uh, where did you want to eat? All your chairs are covered in boxes and there’s no space on the table.”

“I thought we could eat in the living room,” Amber said as she fetched two beers from the fridge.

They sat on the couch and placed their meal and drinks on the small coffee table. Mike opened his beer and took a swig while Amber flipped open the pizza box. She immediately took out a mushroom-and-onion slice. Mike watched her take a bite, feeling relaxed for the first time all day.

Just as he made the realization, his mind flashed back to the conference room. Five missing people. Chloe Whitaker in a hospital bed. Olivia’s blood on the granite. Two samples from something nobody could identify. Doctor Stein’s words and discomfort.

Mike’s smile faded.

Amber noticed. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That was convincing,” she replied sarcastically.

“Just thinking about the meeting today, sorry,” he explained. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s eat.”

Amber studied him as he reached for a slice of pepperoni. She then nodded and took another bite of her pizza slice. They were both clearly hungry, quickly finishing one slice each within a couple minutes. As they ate, they talked about light topics; their jobs, their experiences in Adirondack Park.

“So,” Mike began after swallowing the last bite, “how about you show me what was important enough to get me summoned to the Bennett Institute of Archaeology and Talking to Yourself.”