Bertram leans back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You don’t say.”
“I’ve been spying from the shadows for most of my life,” I tell him. “I figured I’d try doing it under the unflattering courtroom lights instead.”
“I’m surprised to hear you put it that way,” he says. “You seemed to have zero faith in the legal system.”
I hesitate. His observation isn’t too far from the truth. When my brother and I were accused of killing our parents, I thought there was no way anyone would believe we did it. We were just kids.
But then, over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of cases where families are accused of crimes there’s no way they could commit. The whole world will believe the story the media puts out, if it’s covered enough.
“It’s hard to know who to trust,” I tell him. “But I knowI can trust myself. That’s got to be worth something. Maybe I can’t offset all the crooked judges and lawyers out there, but I can make their lives a lot harder.”
“I’ve heard the bar exam can be a nightmare,” Bertram says. “But I bet you know the law better than most. You’ll do great.”
His smile is not quite like that of the heartsick man I’ve come to know. He seems more at peace, not having Annie to worry about, at least for now.
“And you have a sponsor,” he says. “I’d like to pay for your education.”
“That’s—”
He holds up a finger to stop me from protesting. “It’s not a gift. It’s an investment. When you’re done, I’d like to hire you on retainer.”
I raise a brow. “Why?”
“Do you really have to ask? I’ve seen how dedicated you are. Besides, I trust you. That’s worth more than its weight in gold where I’m from.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“No catch. Just fill that brain of yours with all the knowledge that you can, so I can sleep better at night knowing the world is a little safer.”
—
In the weeks that follow, there’s a sense that nothing is permanent. My brother is well enough to return home, though the police have seized most of his surveillance equipment. The rest, I arrange to be put into storage. Bertram—grateful for all we’ve done to relieve him of Annie’s torment—shells out for his in-home caretakers.
My brother is in good spirits. I was worried that the absence of his tech hoard would upset him. But when we enter his home through the front door for the first time in years, he laughs. The living room is filled with empty shelves.
“Is this what a normal house looks like?” he asks me.
I ease him up the stairs. I’ve already been here earlier and made the bed for him. “I think normal houses have fewer shelves.” Then I add, “I’ll talk to Bertram about getting your stuff back. Or replaced, at least.”
“No,” my brother says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks around the room, at the plain walls. He watches me dig through my purse for the bag of prescriptions I’ve picked up at the pharmacy and lay them out on his nightstand. “I can’t remember the last time I slept in here,” he says. “I always worked at one of the computers until I was so exhausted, I just passed out in the chair.”
I sit beside him. “Do you think about it? When you try to fall asleep and it’s too quiet?”
He knows I’m talking about the fire. He nods. “You?”
“It’s worse ever since Waylen started wearing those nasal strips to bed. Now he doesn’t snore, and it’s too quiet.” I bump my shoulder against his. “Maybe we shouldn’t have used spy work as a substitute for therapy.” It gets a laugh out of him.
“I’m glad that you’re going back to school,” he says, his face turning sober again. “I know I won’t be able to look out for you the way I used to. At least, not until this damned cancer goes away or kills me, whichever happens first.”
“Stop that,” I say. “You don’t look out for me. We look out for each other. And that isn’t going to change. The guilt that we both felt after—”
“After it happened,” he says, saving me from having to say the words.
“Yes. We’ve spent our whole lives since then trying to make up for it. We both hid away from the world. I just did it in plain sight is all. I love the work we did, but maybe it’s time to stop hiding.” He said this case would be the big one. The one I’d retire off of. I don’t know if this is what he meant.
As though reading my mind, he says, “When I researched Bertram’s case, and when I did a background check on Erin, something didn’t add up. I couldn’t figure out what it was. Now I know it’s because Erin really does exist, but that isn’t who I was talking to.”
“Annie is good,” I admit. “She had us both going.”
