The Memory Painter

Linz thought back to her actions after she had re-created Renovo. She hadn’t cared either. She would have kept dosing until she either remembered Diana’s life or died trying.

“Then, one night, the memories started to come,” he continued. “And then they wouldn’t stop.” Conrad’s eyes had grown distant. But when he looked back at Linz, his gaze was searing and honest. “I swear. I was never any of the bastards they believed me to be. But I couldn’t talk to anyone. Anyone! Egypt was a turning point. I knew what I was meant to do—who Michael was, our true course—and I thought getting him to remember was the only way. I never intended for you to get hurt.” His voice broke. “Never. When I came back it was too late.”

Linz’s eyes welled up with tears. What she wouldn’t give to believe him. “There’s no way that was an accident.”