Greg gathered up his clothes and put them on; he moved automatically. What is this? We just had sex? God, I need a shower! What the hell? This didn't happen. It didn't; I'm dreaming or something. But who dreamed they were covered in gunk and sticky and since when did he sleep on the job? He couldn't look at Miss Sanderson. We're hunting for her sister and took time out to fuck? Although maybe I should call her Veronica now. Jesus!
"This didn't happen," he said.
"It fucking did," Miss Sanderson disagreed calmly. She dressing, but didn't seem at all embarrassed, standing unselfconsciously in full view to button her shirt. Greg felt a stirring and quickly looked away again, feeling intensely guilty. What's Maddy going to say! My God, I hope she never finds out. I'll have to shower at the station before I go home. That woman has a nose on her like nothing else!
"Why," Greg said. "I just don't get it!" A thought struck him and he turned in a panic. "Shit, I didn't mean! Are you going to press charges?"
"Don't be dumb, it wasn't you."
"Wasn't me?" Greg remembered that feeling, someone riding his mind, and shuddered.
"No," she stared past him, toward the computer, and frowned thoughtfully. "No, it was someone else, something else I should say. We need to see that kid. That Joe Tayna."
"We sure as hell do!" Greg agreed. He finished buckling his belt and made to unclip his gun but Veronica came up to him quickly and put her hand over his.
"No, not like that. There's no point. You've got to trust me on this. You see, I've been here before."
"What do you mean?" Greg felt at his wits end. The world had suddenly become dangerously unfamiliar. He felt like a man who'd been wandering on a beautiful beach admiring the sand and having it turn to quicksand underfoot while being murderously attacked out of the blue sky: A dream of order and sanity shattered in a moment.
"This happened before," she said. She sat down and patted the bed beside her, looking up at him. "I'll tell you about it, if you want to hear."