United We Spy(36)

“It was regrettable.”

Mom shook her head slowly. “To say the very least.”

I watched my mother in that moment, the narrowing of her eyes, the straightening of her spine. She moved ever so slightly in front of me as if to block any more bullets that might be heading in my direction. And I knew what she didn’t say: that I wasn’t out of danger. Not by a long shot.

“It was an isolated incident,” Edwards told her.

“Was it?” Mom asked. “Was it really? I thought your task force was impervious to moles.”

“No one is taking this breach more seriously than I am, Rachel.”

“Well, evidently you aren’t taking it seriously enough,” Mom said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s hard to sail a leaking ship,” Mom told him. “Perhaps your mole-free, traitor-proof task force isn’t quite as safe as you thought.”

“Tell me, Rachel”—I watched the man shift, take a different tack—“where is Joe Solomon? Where is he right now?”

“Joe Solomon is dead.” Mom’s voice cracked. She’d spent enough time imagining what it would be like to lose him that it probably wasn’t hard at all for her to pretend that she had. “He was killed in an explosion at the Blackthorne Institute last spring. As the head of the task force, I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Of course.” Edwards smiled. “How silly of me to forget.” He stepped toward the door but glanced back at my mother. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He nodded in my direction. “Cammie,” he said, then opened the door.

He didn’t turn back again, didn’t falter. But even after he was gone, his presence lingered. I felt it in my bones, saw it in my mother’s eyes as she kept her gaze trained on the front windows, watching the headlights of Max Edwards’s car disappear.

“They know,” Mom said. She didn’t look at me. She just kept staring into the darkness, almost like she was waiting for black helicopters and SWAT teams to descend upon our grounds and swarm all over the mansion. “They know about Joe.”

“They suspect,” I tried to correct her; but Mom just shook her head.

“No, Cammie. They know. Or they think they know, and that is all they need.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Joe’s not safe here.” Mom looked numbly at the closed door.

“The task force isn’t going to work, is it?” I asked.

I waited for my mother to answer, but it was like I hadn’t spoken at all. The answer was the silence that stretched between us.

“So what does that mean? Do we go back to looking for the Circle leaders ourselves? I think we’ve got to. We should call the Baxters, right? Maybe—”

“You should go to bed, Cammie.”

At last, my mother looked at me, but it wasn’t the look I’d grown used to. She didn’t want to be alone. She looked at me like maybe it was the last time she’d ever see me—like that moment was precious and rare and fleeting. Only then did I realize just how close I’d come to never coming home again.

Mom hugged me and smoothed my hair. She kissed the top of my head just like she’d done when I was a little girl.

“You’re so grown-up, kiddo,” she said, and I felt myself blush a little. “When did you get so grown-up? You don’t even need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you.”

“No, Cammie.” She held me tighter, looked into my eyes. “You’ve already handled situations that agents twice your age would crumble under. You’re a tremendous operative. And you’re ready, sweetheart. When the time comes, I promise you, you’ll be ready.”

“Okay,” I said—because what else could I say? It was like my mother was talking in riddles, and I was far too exhausted to try to break the code.

“Now, go on. I’m sure it’s killing Zach and the girls not to have all the details. Just promise me you’ll try to get some sleep.”

“I promise,” I said.