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“Everything’s possible when you think the world is one big conspiracy theory, Drew.”
“I have every right to wear a tinfoil hat right now, Silas.”
“What about Anya? Harry said she’s the one who told him that was Mark Paulson on the helicopter. Is she in custody? Being interrogated?”
His nostrils flare. “She lawyered up.”
“What?”
“She’s refusing to say a word without her lawyer.”
“Damn.”
“Doesn’t mean anything. You know how politicians are. Everyone lawyers up.”
“She sent Lindsay on a helicopter with the very same men who attacked her four years ago, pretending that it was Mark Paulson on that chopper, and you’re making excuses for her? Are you out of your fucking mind, Silas?”
“Just stating facts.”
“Facts suck.”
“Welcome to reality, Drew.”
“Oh, I’ve had more than my fair share of reality, Silas. Fuck off with the sarcasm.”
“The reality is,” he says, ignoring that, “Anya is tight as a drum. Senator Bosworth is freaking out, and everyone’s mobilized to find Lindsay.” He looks at the laptop. “We should get as much manpower on this as possible.”
I ignore that.
“I can’t believe Anya threw Lindsay under a bus. She had to know that what she did meant sending her to her death.” My stomach roils at the thought. A vision of Anya fills my mind’s eye. Cool, calm, implacable.
And that evil?
“She’s been part of Harry’s team for too long to turn on the family.” I fight my internal denial. I need to be clear headed and impartial. The only bias I allow myself is toward Lindsay.
“It’s hard to believe,” Silas says in agreement.
This is a distraction. I need to focus on action.
“We need to regroup.”
Silas says, “Jane and Anya aside, the question is this: how do we get into your apartment and rescue Lindsay?”
“We?” If my face didn’t hurt so much, my eyebrows would shoot up. “You realize this is career suicide if you help me.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
Have I mentioned what a good man he is?
“What about Paulson?” I ask.
“What about him?”
“Where is he?”
Silas checks his phone. Taps a few times. Looks at me. “Still don’t know.”
“Fuck. If Jane’s in on it, and Paulson’s in on it, who else?”
