Linda nods.
She leaves the door ajar and returns to her living room, to her plants. She picks up her watering can and moves to the struggling plant from Abigail’s office. It’s doing better already. Glossy green buds are forming.
“See,” she tells it softly. “Everything in its time.”
She waters it carefully, then sets down the can and picks up the Easter cactus.
“Let’s find you a better spot, love.”
She carries the plant into her bedroom, which she keeps cool and dark. Windows open most nights, the radiator off on all but the coldest days. Blackout curtains so the light pollution doesn’t keep her awake. She glances behind her, toward the guest room where Ruth sits reading.
“Some things grow toward the light,” she murmurs. “And some things grow in the dark.” She places the cactus on the nightstand under the open window.
While she’s here, she might as well check. She picks up her tablet. The Payback is now number nineteen in espionage thrillers.
Still climbing.
Chapter Fifteen
The first week passes in a blur. Leo settles into a routine, learns all his students’ names, and is getting to know the faculty. What he can’t do is get close to Caleb, because the new father is taking his paternity leave.
On Friday morning, he’s running along the National Mall, just a quick three-mile loop before school, when an idea hits him. He pauses near the Jefferson Memorial and pulls out his phone to thumb out a text to Caleb:
How are you two surviving the newborn fog? Would love to have you over for dinner this weekend if you’re up for it. The twins are dying to meet Henry.
Em and I would love adult conversation that doesn’t involve diaper contents.
Tonight’s pizza night at our place if you’re desperate. Or I can cook a real meal tomorrow. Your call.
Em just shouted pizza and sanity. So tonight works. What time?
How’s 6 sound?
See you then.
He stows the phone and resumes his sunrise run.
When he gets home, Sasha’s in the family room curled up with the dog, the cat, and her copy of The Payback.
She looks up. “How was your run?”
“Good. Getting it in before the tourists hit the Mall is the way to go.” He points his chin at the book in her hands. “Thought you finished that?”
“I have. Twice. Going through it for a third time, just in case I missed something.”
His phone rings. “It’s Hank.”
She sets down her book. He answers and puts it on speaker.
“Hey. You’re on with both of us.”
“Good morning.” Hank sounds tired. “I’ve got the analysis back on the Turkey attack and compared it to Sasha’s report on Caleb’s book.”
“And?”
“And there are significant differences between what Caleb wrote and what actually happened. I’ll send you the report through the secure server.”
“What kind of differences?”
