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I nod, but Grandad puts a bare hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to go anywhere with him, kid.”
Agent Jones is staring at my grandfather’s hand like it’s a snake.
“It’s okay,” I say. “He was working Philip’s murder.”
“Fat lot of good that did,” says Grandad, but he lets go of me. He walks to the counter and pours coffee into two mugs. “You take anything in your coffee, government leech?”
“No, thanks,” Jones says, and points at Grandad’s hand. “You hurt yourself there?”
“Wasn’t me that got hurt.” Grandad hands me one of the cups.
I take a swig and follow Jones out through the sagging porch and into the front yard.
“What do you want?” I ask under my breath. We’re standing near his shiny black car with the dark tinted windows. The cold breeze cuts through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. I cup the mug closer to me for warmth, but the coffee is cooling fast.
“Something the matter? Afraid the old man’s going to find out what you’ve been up to?” His smile is gloating.
I suppose it’s too much to expect that just because Jones and I are on the same side now, he’s going to start acting like it.
“If you’ve got something to say to me, spit it out,” I tell him.
He folds his arms over his chest. I can see the bulge of his gun. He reminds me of every mobster I’ve ever met, except less polite. “Yulikova needs to see you. She said to tell you that she’s sorry for bothering you on a weekend, but something really big has come up. She says that you’ll want to hear it.”
“Too big for them to tell you what it is?” I don’t know why I’m taunting him. I guess I’m scared, what with him flaunting my connection to the Feds right in front of Grandad. And I’m angry—the kind of anger that burns you up from the inside. The kind of anger that makes you stupid.
His lip curls. “Come on. Get in the car.”
I shake my head. “No way. I can’t. Tell her I’ll come later today. I just have to come up with an excuse.”
“You have exactly ten minutes to square this with your grandfather, or I’ll tell him that you framed your own brother. That you ratted him out to us.”
“Yulikova didn’t tell you to do that,” I say. A shiver runs through me that’s only partially from the cold. “She’d be pissed off if she knew you were threatening me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you’re the one who’s screwed. Now, are you coming with me?”
I swallow roughly. “Okay. Let me get my coat.”
Agent Jones is still grinning when I go back into the house. I swallow the rest of the coffee, even though it’s like ice.
“Grandad,” I shout. “They want to ask me some questions about Mom. I’ll be right back.”
My grandfather comes halfway down the stairs. He’s wearing gloves. “You don’t have to go.”
“It’ll be fine.” I tug on a long black coat and grab for my phone and wallet.
I feel like a terrible person.
Whatever else I’m shaky on, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to con the people you love.
Grandad gives me a long look. “Do you want me to come along?”
“I think someone better stay with Sam,” I say.
At the mention of his name, Sam looks up from where he’s draped on the couch. A strange expression passes over his face, and a moment later, he lunges for the wastebasket.
Hard to believe it, but someone’s about to have a worse morning than I’m having.
* * *
