Page 21 of Montana Memory

I looked like half the guys in here—tired, unimportant, forgettable. That was the point.

A heavy door buzzed open, and a guard led Caleb Moyer into the room. The man moved with the weight of too many years inside, his orange jumpsuit hanging off lean muscle. His dark gaze swept the room before landing on me. Confusion first, then wariness. He wasn’t expecting company.

I didn’t move as he lowered himself onto the chair across from me, his eyes narrowing. He picked up the phone on his side but didn’t speak. Just waited.

I grabbed the receiver on my end. “Caleb.”

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was rough, edged with suspicion.

I let a pause stretch before answering. “Hunter. I’m a friend of Jada’s.”

His expression didn’t change at the mention of his sister, but his grip on the receiver tightened. “Yeah? Never heard of you.”

“That’s not surprising.”

His eyes stayed locked on mine, searching. A man who had lived too many years watching his own back, always looking for the angle. “Where is she?”

I’d expected that question first. It came sharp, demanding. Not hopeful. Like he already knew the answer would be bad.

“She wasn’t available to come.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek jumping. “That’s not what I asked.”

I leaned back slightly, keeping my voice even. “I know.”

For a second, he didn’t speak. Just studied me, weighing every inch of what I wasn’t saying. Then he exhaled sharply and leaned forward. “Why are you really here?”

I debated how much to give him. Caleb Moyer wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t harmless either. I’d seen his rap sheet. He’d earned his time in here. But he was still Jada’s brother. The only family she had.

I lifted the receiver a little higher. “Because Jada’s in trouble.”

Caleb’s gaze sharpened at my words, but I didn’t let him interrupt.

“She was injected with something. Some sort of memory-loss drug,” I said, voice low but firm. “She doesn’t remember anything. Not who she is. Not what she’s done. Not even you.”

I saw the exact second it registered. His whole body stiffened, fingers clenching the receiver so tight his knuckles went white. Then he lunged forward, stopping just short of smashing his forehead against the glass.

“What the hell did you just say?”

“She has no memory, Caleb.” I kept my voice calm, steady, but inside, my gut was twisting. “The drug wiped everything.”

“Fuck.” He exhaled hard, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re telling me she took—” He cut himself off, inhaled through his nose, face grim. “You don’t just walk that shit off, man! That drug—” He broke off again, shaking his head.

My stomach knotted. “What do you know about it?”

Caleb’s lips pressed together, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s bad. Worse than bad. On the street, people call itBlank Space. It was supposed to be some next-level eraser—make people forget whatever you wanted. Problem is, it’s unstable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes itkillspeople.”

Cold, sharp dread curled in my chest. “Could it still kill her?”

His expression darkened. “I don’t know.”

Not good enough. Not even close. “Is there an antidote?”

“Not that I ever heard.” He exhaled sharply. “I never touched that shit, man. But there’s someone who might know.”

I waited.

Caleb leaned in, voice low. “Guy’s name is Zeke, but he goes byCopper. Runs in South Denver. If anyone knows about this crap, it’s him. But I don’t want my sister anywhere around him. How the hell did this happen? For fuck’s sake, please tell me she didn’t take it herself.”

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