She handed Carter a folded note. It was written in Nika’s unhurried, perfect English script.
My darling,
I hope this outcome is to your satisfaction. I am sorry to leave like this, but I did not have the courage to face you one last time. I know you will never love me like I love you, so it is better this way. Please do not worry about me. I will have a good life now. I have done enough for your country and mine, and it is time for me to walk away. For us both to. Thank you for everything. You are a good man. I hope, like me, you will have no regrets.
Always, your Nika.
In a hurried postscript, she’d added:One day, you must let yourself feel again. Otherwise, what is the point?
Chapter 20
Alice
Present day
Carter pulled up at the Montrose Youth Center, a block from the police station. It was Alice’s suggestion—it was closed in the mornings, so they wouldn’t be observed. She noticed he was careful to stop out of view of the security cameras. It was like he dwelt in a parallel universe—she would usually make a point of parking right beside the cameras.
“Well, here we are!” he said with comic brightness, as they climbed off the motorcycle and removed their helmets.
“Here we are indeed.”
This was what she’d wanted all along. And yet… What would happen now? She’d tell the authorities the little she knew, and then sit and wait to hear what happened, which might or might not involve Carter being charged with a crime she was certain he didn’t commit?
“I notice you’re not walking away,” he said, eyeing her with curiosity.
“No, no, I’m definitely going.”
“You’re standing completely still.”
She took a step backward, and stopped. “Where are you meeting Randolph? What did your mother set up?”
“See now, if you’re going to the cops, I’d rather not tell you that. I want you to be completely truthful. I’ve already gotten you in enough trouble without adding a perjury charge. As soon as you lie to them, they can trap you. It’s how it works.”
“Oh, right. Sure. Well, I guess this is where we do the ‘Bye, nice-knowing-you, good-luck thing.’”
“Bye, nice knowing you, good luck.”
“So sincere.”
“You know, if you’re looking for an excuse to stick around,” he said, crossing his arms. “Iwouldrather have you with me.”
“You would?”
Obviously, she sounded too hopeful, in the wrong way, because he hurriedly added, “So I can pick your brain. And so I know you’re safe, relatively.”
“You don’t have to feel responsible for me.”
“See, I have this weird habit of worrying about women who vanish from my life.”
“I’m not in that league. I’m sure you’ll find me back in my classroom before the week is out, if I still have a job after being declared a person of interest to the FBI. And if these Russians don’t get me—God, I’d forgotten about them. And the lawsuit. The lawsuit!”
“I’ve always found that the best way to deal with a problem is to get a bigger problem. Make sure the Feds know there’s been an attempt on your life. The lawyer I send can argue for witness protection in exchange for cooperation until this is resolved.”
“Witness protection? All along I’ve had it in my head that if I give myself up to the cops, I can magically return in time to yesterday, before all this happened. The world will reset, sanity will prevail. But … I can’t, can I? That world has shifted. I’mnever going to be able to look at bathroom faucets the same way again.”
“You what?”
“Yesterday morning that was my biggest concern—do I buy stainless steel, zinc or chrome, or go crazy with brushed nickel?”
