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“We have one of them on the payroll. He’s going to stall the other guard for long enough that you can take care of things. And he’s going to watch your back.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll meet you at Wallingford. Call me when you get here.”
“Try not to worry,” Yulikova says. “Good-bye, Cassel.”
My heart’s racing and my stomach is in knots as I close my phone. There is nothing worse than the creeping formless sense of dread—until that moment when it becomes clear what you should have been dreading all along. When you know it’s not just all in your head. When you see the danger.
The Feds don’t need me to bring in Patton. They don’t need me at all. If they’ve really got one of his bodyguards on their payroll, they could disappear him anytime they wanted.
* * *
I sit down on the library steps and call Barron.
I can hear traffic in the background when he picks up. “You want something?” He sounds annoyed.
“Oh, come on,” I say. I’m not exactly pleased with him, either. “You can’t really be pissed off—just because you thought that I couldn’t convince her you were lying when you were actually lying.”
“So you called to gloat?” he asks.
“Yulikova moved up the date for the thing, and she has an inside man already. Someone positioned to do this job a lot better than me. Does that sound fishy to you?”
“Maybe,” he says.
“And that death worker I chased down. Her people picked him up after to see if I lied about anything.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. I took something from him and I… I kind of let him go. She knew that and never said anything.”
“That does seem weird. I guess you’re screwed. Sucks to be you, Cassel. Looks like the Feds aren’t your friends after all.”
He hangs up, leaving me with silence.
I don’t know why I expected anything else.
* * *
I sit on the steps for a long time. I don’t go to track practice. I don’t go to dinner. I just turn the phone over and over in my hands until I realize I have to get up and go somewhere eventually.
I dial Lila’s number. I don’t expect her to answer, but she does.
“I need your help,” I say.
Her voice is low. “We’ve helped each other enough, don’t you think?”
“I just need to talk through some things with someone.”
“It shouldn’t be me.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m working with the Feds, Lila. And I’m in trouble. A lot of trouble.”
“I’m getting my coat,” she says. “Tell me where you are.”
We arrange to meet at the old house. I get my keys and head to my car.
* * *
I’m sitting in the kitchen in the dark when she opens the door. I’m thinking about the smell of my father’s cigarillos and what it was like when we were very young and nothing really mattered.
