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“Tell me when you get home.”
He shook his head. “I can’t wait.”
“Cope—”
He cupped my cheek with his palm. “I love you, Ali.”
I asked to sit in the back of the car on the ride back and sat up when I saw the sign for the Civil War Museum, remembering how animated Cope had gotten when he told me about it. “My grandfather used to take me there a lot,” he said. “Often, we spent more time outside, sitting on one of the benches while he told me stories, than we did inside.”
We’d just pulled into the parking garage when both Rock’s and Buck’s cells went off. Buck answered his. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew, whatever the call was about, was bad.
“Come on upstairs,” said Rock with his arm around my shoulders. Buck was still inside the car, on this phone.
“What’s going on?” I asked once we were in the elevator.
“I don’t know.”
“Then, why are you and Buck acting so strangely?”
“I’ll see what I can find out once you’re settled.”
When I pulled my phone out of my pocket, Rock took it out of my hand. “What the fuck? Give that back to me.”
“Ali—”
“You know who I am, Rock. Give me my goddamn phone.”
The elevator door opened on the thirtieth floor, and Rock took my arm. “Come on. Just do this for me.”
I let him lead me inside. With every step, the sick feeling in my stomach grew more intense. The door closed behind us.
“Ali, sit down.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Something’s happened to Cope, hasn’t it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Just fucking tell me, Rock. What happened?”
I raced over, grabbed the television remote, and turned it on before he could stop me. I sunk to my knees as I watched the report.
“A car exploded in the parking lot of Saint James’ Hospital at approximately seven this evening. Reports indicate one fatality.”
Behind the reporter, I could see the whirling red lights of the emergency vehicles that surrounded the burned-out shell of the car I knew was Cope’s rental.
22
ALI
The next three days were a blur. Chloe flew in and stayed with me in Cope’s apartment. Rock and Buck were still there, along with other operatives they worked with. There were six apartments on the thirtieth floor of the building, and they all seemed to be occupied by people they were affiliated with.
Whenever someone came to the door, Chloe spoke with them. The only people she let in to see me were Stella and Lindsey from the café downstairs.
I sat and listened while they spoke to me, but after they left, I couldn’t remember what they’d said.
