Chapter 17 · Found It With His Mouth

"Empty your pockets." Calder's hand shot out and caught my wrist before I even started moving.

"I already gave you the ledger page." I tried to twist free. He didn't let go. His thumb pressed into the tendon under my palm like he was checking a pulse he didn't trust.

"Not the ledger." His eyes dropped to my coat, to the seam along the hem I'd re-stitched myself two nights ago with dental floss and a needle I stole off his own supply shelf. "You've got a second one. Somewhere."

My stomach dropped. He couldn't know. Nobody knew.

"A second what?"

"Inhaler." He said it flat, no question mark on it at all. "You think I don't count? I've watched you breathe for six days, Ira. You ration the one I hold like it's the last dose on earth. People who ration don't gamble everything on one canister. You've got a spare stitched into something. Coat. Bra. Waistband. I don't care which."

The green circuit board still sat on the counter behind him, its little light blinking steady, proof someone inside his own crew had reached into this room and turned the lock into a coin flip.