Isaak gave a helpless shrug. “He was a businessman, a steelmaker. He paid my tuition. I only met him twice. Professor Klein had arranged it all....” He trailed off, and shook his head. “I know how all of this must sound, Vivian. But I swear to God, I’m telling you the truth, about me, my past, the mission. About everything at stake.” Underlying the desperation in his voice was inarguable sincerity. He shut his eyes, shoved his fingers through his hair.
It was useless to fight what she felt to her core. Denying this–to him, or herself-would only waste valuable time.
“I believe you,” she told him. “Granted, that could make me the most foolish person on earth ... but I do.”
He looked up and his lips edged toward a smile. Not the charming, slanted grin that existed in her dreams. Rather, the one in real life, which had changed over time-as they both had.
“I presume,” he said at last, “that the person with the file was the one you were counting on for help.”
Reluctantly she affirmed this. “I’m sorry, Isaak.”
He nodded and murmured something too soft to hear.
She waited a moment before asking him, “What are you going to do?”
Gaze lowered, he clasped her fingers. She might have retracted them if not for the tally of a thousand days spent wishing for his return.
“What I’ve always suspected would happen,” he said as if accepting defeat. “I’ll turn myself in. If I don’t, they’ll continue to train more operatives and keep sending them over.”
Seeing sheer resignation in a man who was once larger than life was almost too much for Vivian to bear. Her mind fell back to an image, a photo from the newspaper that for some inexplicable reason had captured her interest. Beside the article of the missing little girl was a picture of her parents in grainy gray tones. Despite seemingly insurmountable odds, their faces wore an enduring veneer of hope.
In Vivian’s memory, she reviewed the photo again, and halted at a thought. As if viewed through a camera lens, the idea gained focus. It would be a gamble, yes. But with no other options, the solution called to her.
“Do you trust me?” she said to Isaak, whose brow sharply dipped.
“Of course.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you’ll need to.”
41
At this point, all Audra could do was hope. She assured herself that the worst wasn’t yet to come. But she knew better, even before she opened her front door to the two uniformed men.
“Good afternoon,” said the one on the right. He was pale skinned, with a slight crook in his nose. “I’m Officer Hall and this is Officer Ramirez.” The sturdy Hispanic-looking man tipped his hat.
“Hello,” she said.
“Ma’am, are you Audra Hughes?” Officer Hall continued with the lead.
“I am.”
“Ms. Hughes, we’re stopping by today because a citizen called, saying they’ve heard a child screaming from your residence on several occasions.”
A neighbor. It had to be—though Audra could only guess which one. Their encounters had never surpassed a trade of courteous smiles.
Why hadn’t she thought of it before? There would be no basis for anyone here to presume Jack’s frequent screeches of “help me” and “let me out” merely resulted from his dreams.
“That’s totally my fault,” she admitted. “My son’s been having horrible nightmares. The walls aren’t the thickest here. I really should’ve let the residents around us know.”
“Could I ask who’s in your apartment today?”
Thrown off, Audra took a moment to reply. “Just me and my son, Jack. I’m a single mom.”
“Is your son around right now?”
“Well, yes. He’s in the kitchen.”
Officer Ramirez looked past her shoulder and spoke for the first time. “Afternoon, sir.”
Audra turned to find Sean approaching. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
Oh, God. She’d forgotten he was here.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the officers. “I should’ve remembered—this is Sean Malloy. He’s ... a friend of ours. He’s just visiting. For the day.” Although she had told Sean of the night terrors, having this unfurl in his presence magnified her embarrassment. Unfortunately, inviting him to leave could suggest to the policemen that she’d been hiding him on purpose.
Officer Hall resumed his mission in a distressingly genial tone. “Ma’am, we’d just like to check on your son real quick, make sure there’s no concern. Then we can get out of your hair and let you enjoy your weekend.”