There was a brief moment of silence. I looked at him, and he looked at me, and the world seemed to shrink to just the inside of my car.
He cleared his throat. "Milo," he said with finality in his voice. "You can call me Milo."
epilogue: milo
We watched them for a long time before either of us said a word.
The street was so quiet, I could hear the dog's nails click against the sidewalk and the distant sound of somebody's TV through a cracked window. The afternoon was on its last legs. Sun burned out across the row of neat single-family houses, painting the whole neighborhood in that golden color people always wrote about in their poetry attempts.
The air smelled like dry grass and the Pacific, even though the ocean was a couple of hours away from this sleepy Northern California town.
Two boys played in the yard, their legs dirty with dust. One of them had a shock of hair so white it was almost blue in the sunlight. The other, smaller, was all elbows and knees. He had dark hair almost like mine. He was chasing the dog up and down the picket fence line.
We were parked two houses down, and I was unsure if I could do this today. I knew I had to, but my heart was an anxious mess.
Kimmy sat next to me in the passenger seat, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose. I wondered if she enjoyed our little stakeout game a lot more than I did.
Every few minutes, she'd reach out and touch my forearm and then pretend she hadn't.
She watched me more than the kids. She was subtle about it, but I caught her in the corner of my eye whenever I shifted my gaze.
"You'll break the steering wheel," she said.
I looked down. My knuckles were the color of milk.
I flexed my fingers, let them relax, then went back to the death grip.
"Don't be nervous," she whispered.
"I'm not nervous," I lied. "Just thinking."
She didn't buy it, but she let it go. "We don't have to do this today if you're not ready."
I watched the boys some more. They turned the garden hose on each other and were now soaking wet, shrieking with delight. The dog was losing its mind.
"If not today, then when?" I said.
She leaned back, let her head roll against the seat. "Next week. Next month. Whenever you feel like you're up for it. It's your sister, not an assignment." She looked at me over the top of her sunglasses.
She was right, of course.
I wanted to believe her. But the last few months had turned my head inside out. Every day since I left the Bureau, I expected to get the call. The call that saidJust kidding, Seven. You're not free. We own you, and we always will.
But the phone never rang. Father kept his word, or maybe he wanted to see what I'd do when I thought nobody was watching.
So I monitored the Johnson house instead. The information had come to me after I'd left the Bureau. Viper had left it in my safety deposit box I'd rented for such things. Along with the folder, he'd also left a note that said
Have fun on vacation, boss. Don't miss me too much.
Before coming here, I'd run through a hundred possible approaches. None of them made sense.
At least to me.
But Kimmy had other ideas. I'd chosen to follow one of hers. Just be upfront with it.
Sure, I could do that.
I returned my attention to the front yard.
