under Jenn’s white knuckles. She didn’t remember sending this, but who else could have? Sure, half her department could spoof e-mails, but hardly anyone knew she’d been diagnosed with ADL. She hadn’t told anyone yet except Rosa and the therapist she’d made Jenn see.
Jenn swallowed. “Hey, remember the other night when we got super drunk?”
Rosa crossed her thick arms. “Which one?”
“This one.” She waved the page. “You know how we check for drunk calls and texts in the morning?”
“Shit.” Rosa snatched the page back, checking the time. “Shit, you’re right. We forgot e-mails. I can ditch her if you want.”
“She just showed up?”
The stranger stood, dark and businessy against the noontime glare of the common room window. “I’m sorry. I replied a few days ago to coordinate a meeting, but this morning, I realized I’d be in the area and we could talk. I thought you’d see your e-mail by now.”
Jenn opened the e-mail app she’d been avoiding for days. Sarah Anderson’s (USAF CIV) reply was right on top, something about being able to meet this morning and only this morning. “What’s the rush?”
“I’m leaving the state after this. I have an unexpected chance to help you today. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until next year.”
The neurologist said Jenn wouldn’t have a next year. Just another plan she didn’t get to consider anymore. This thing had been screwing with her life for months, and this stranger thought she could fix it today? Sounded great. Sounded too good to be true.
Jenn crossed her arms and leaned against the door jamb. “You think you can cure my incurable brain degenerating disease today?”
Anderson stepped closer, away from the window’s glare, so Jenn could finally see her. Short with dark blonde hair, she looked Jenn’s age, maybe a tad younger, and seemed to be compensating with an expensive short-sleeve blouse, black slacks, and a dash of conservative jewelry. Her tense smile tried to be polite. “Probably not cure it, but we could treat it indefinitely.”
A treatment? Jenn choked up and had to clear her throat. “How come my doctor hasn’t heard of this?”
Anderson glanced at Rosa, as if the roommate’s presence were an inconvenience. “Come with me, and I’ll explain.”
Rosa shouldered in between them. “She’s not going anywhere until you explain.”
Anderson kept looking Jenn in the eyes. “You can always say no.”
“How come my doctor doesn’t know?” Jenn repeated, waving the e-mail.
“It’s experimental. It originated from non-medical research that turned out to have medical applications, and…” She winced. “I’m short on medical contacts. I haven’t had the time to promote it.”
Hence, the half-assed internet ad. That made an ounce of sense.
“What kind of non-medical research?”
“The kind I can’t tell you about here.” Anderson glanced at Rosa then out the window to the football/soccer field. “I have a secure room nearby where I can explain a little more.”
“Whatever you can say to me, you can say in front of Rosa.”
She frowned. “I really can’t.”
“What, it’s classified?” Jenn scoffed.
Anderson checked her watch. “Look, we can either go somewhere where I can explain my offer, or you can say no. I don’t have a lot of time.”
Holy fudgecicles! It was classified. That was why the doctors didn’t know. For sure, the time pressure was a manipulation tactic, but… It wasn’t like Jenn had time, anyway. “Fine. I’ll go. Tell me.”
“Jenn!” Rosa glared at each of them. “Lady, you just got here, and we don’t even know that you are who you say you are.”
“I am.” Anderson fished a mangled card from her pocket and handed it to Jenn.
It had a little Air Force logo, her name and contact information at Bradshaw Air Force Base, and listed her title as, simply, Liaison. Jenn passed it to Rosa.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” Rosa mumbled, dialing one of the numbers.
Anderson met Jenn’s eyes. “Give me thirty minutes.” She turned to Rosa. “If she’s not back, call the police. You have my name and contact information.”
“Fine, let’s do this.”
“Jenn!” Rosa’s phone drooped in her hand.
“Look, this is my only chance. It’s some classified Air Force thing. I have to find out.”
“It’s not—” Anderson cut herself off.
Yeah, right, it wasn’t classified. “I’ll be right back.”