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Criminals get caught eventually—it’s a tenet of being in the life. But maybe things are different for government agents. Maybe their mothers stay out of prison forever. I guess I ought to hope so.
* * *
From the outside the building is nondescript, a dull medium-size concrete structure in the middle of a parking lot, its mirrored windows gleaming with reflected light from the setting sun. No one would guess that a federal agency occupies the upper floors, especially since the sign out front promises RICHARDSON & CO., ADHESIVES AND SEALANTS and almost everyone coming in and out is wearing a sharp-looking suit.
Above me the trees are mostly brown and bare, the reds and golds of early autumn faded by the cold October wind. My Benz is right where I left it, reminding me of the life I could have had if I’d accepted Lila’s father’s offer and become his secret weapon.
More and more I feel like the boy who cut off his nose to spite his face.
I drive back to Wallingford, arriving with just enough time to dump off my gym bag and grab a granola bar before I have to meet Daneca at the library. I jog up the stairs and am about to unlock the door to my room when I realize it’s already open.
“Hello?” I say as I go in.
Sitting on my bed is a girl. I’ve seen her around campus, but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. She’s a sophomore, Asian—Korean, I think, with long black hair that hangs to her waist like a waterfall, and thick white socks that come almost to her knees. Her eyes are lined with glittering blue pencil. She looks up at me from under long lashes and smiles shyly.
I’m a little flustered, I have to admit. This doesn’t happen a lot. “Are you waiting for Sam?”
“I was hoping to talk to you.” She stands, lifting her pink book bag and biting her bottom lip. Then, hesitating, she adds, “I’m Mina. Mina Lange.”
“You’re really not supposed to be in my room,” I say, dropping my gym bag.
She grins. “I know.”
“I was just about to head out,” I say, glancing toward the door. I have no idea what kind of game she’s playing, but the last time a girl turned up on my bed, everything went directly to hell sans handbasket. I’m not exactly optimistic. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mina, but if there’s something you want to tell me, you should probably do it now.”
“Can’t you stay?” she asks, taking a step toward where I’m standing. “I have a really big favor to ask, and there’s no one else who can help.”
“I find that hard to believe.” My voice comes out a little strained-sounding. I think of Daneca and all of the explaining I have ahead of me. The last thing I need is to be late and have one more thing to explain. “But I guess I could wait a few minutes if it’s important.”
“Maybe we could go somewhere else,” she says. Her lips are glossy pink, soft-looking. Her white-gloved finger wraps around a strand of her long black hair, twirling it nervously. “Please.”
“Mina, just tell me,” I say, but the tone of my voice isn’t very commanding. I don’t mind indulging in the illusion that there’s something absolutely vital that I can do for a beautiful girl, even if I don’t believe it myself. I don’t mind lingering a little while longer, pretending.
“You’re busy,” she says. “I shouldn’t keep you. I know that we’re not—I know you don’t know me that well or anything. And this is all my fault. But please, please can we talk sometime?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course. But didn’t you want—”
She cuts me off. “No, I’ll come back. I’ll find you. I knew you’d be nice, Cassel. I just knew it.”
She brushes past me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body. Moments later I hear her light step in the hall. I stand alone in the middle of my room for a long moment, trying to figure out what just happened.
* * *
The air has turned from chilly to the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and lives in your marrow. The kind of cold that keeps you shivering after you’ve come into a warm room, as if you have to shudder ice from your veins. I am almost to the library.
“Hey,” someone calls from behind me. I know the voice.
I turn.
Lila’s standing at the edge of the grass, looking up. She’s wearing a long black coat, and when she speaks, her breath condenses in the air like the ghosts of unspoken words. She looks like a ghost herself, all black and white in the shadow of leafless trees. “My father wants to see you,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, and follow her. Just like that. I’d probably follow her off a cliff.
She leads me to a silver Jaguar XK in the parking lot. I don’t know when she got the car—or her license—and I want to say something about that, offer her some kind of congratulations, but when I open my mouth, she gives me a look that makes me swallow the words.
I get in quietly on the passenger side and take out my phone. The inside smells like spearmint bubble gum and perfume and cigarette smoke. A half-empty bottle of diet soda is resting in the cup holder.
I take out my phone and text Daneca: Can’t make it 2nite.
