Page 31

At the state prison, Ander watched through the double mirror as Stacy and Anja began the second interrogation of Tyra Scharf.

Officially, Ander had been taken off the case. Slade was the one to dismiss him. “In your condition, there’s no way you could be objective. Let alone effective.”

At the time—the day it happened—Ander had grumbled about what his boss had said. But he’d gone home, as ordered. He had to keep it together for Murphy and Demetri.

After he’d put the boys to bed, he’d found the big, expensive bottle of scotch his father had given him last Christmas.

Being a beer man, for the most part, Ander had left the scotch untouched except for an inch from last year’s Christmas toast. But that night, he couldn’t take the pain.

He needed to feel nothing. He needed to find a way to sleep.

Murphy and Demetri had eventually joined him on the couch, where they’d remained.

The following days were both a blur and a slog.

With Demetri’s nanny out of town for the holidays, Demetri’s dad, Sascha, had asked if the boy could come by and play with Murphy during the day.

Ander was home, and Demetri’s dad worked full time, so it had actually worked out.

And the boys provided a great source of comfort, both for him and for each other.

Keeping them busy had turned into an excellent distraction. But activities couldn’t fill every moment of the day. Sometimes, they had to sit with their thoughts and feelings.

Demetri was taking it hard, as expected. In the times when he wasn’t crying, he was unusually quiet, remote.

Ander wondered if he might need some help. He was in over his head, and Sascha probably was too, given he’d been so open to dropping off his toddler with Ander.

Although Ander was relieved that Alessandra’s ex was comfortable leaving Demetri with them, he hoped that meant Sascha was open to all of them having an ongoing relationship.

Ander’s parents had offered to fly in and stay with them for a while. But Ander had declined. He wasn’t ready to face them yet.

A couple of hours earlier, Ander had been at home preparing dinner when the call came from Slade. His boss wanted to check up on him, first and foremost. After a brief, uncomfortable conversation, Slade arrived at the other reason for his call.

Stacy and Anja were going to take another run at Tyra Scharf, to see if she knew more than she was letting on. Slade wanted to let Ander know their progress.

“Can I sit in?” The question had been thick in his throat. He almost couldn’t make the request.

The silence on the other end of the line had answered him, but he pressed again.

“Please.”

“You know that’s a bad idea.” Slade stated this plainly, with no ounce of rebuke. Not for the first time, Ander wondered if Slade’s straightforward demeanor reassured or irritated his boss’s teenage daughters.

“I won’t say a word. Tyra won’t know I’m there. Stacy and Anja can have full run of the show. I just…I just need to do something. Even if it’s observing.”

This time the silence seemed more contemplative.

“Please,” he’d said again.

Slade caved.

Ander felt a kind of normalcy for the first time since it happened. He called a sitter. As soon as she arrived, he drove over to the state prison.

There she was, Tyra Scharf, on the other side of the two-way mirror. She smiled at Stacy and Anja as they took their seats opposite her. Try as he might, Ander couldn’t find the energy to be angry at her.

He just felt pity. And a deep, profound sadness.

A grief not only for himself but for all of humanity.

Stacy scooted her chair forward. The audio was on, so Ander could hear everything in the interrogation room. “Good evening. What’s new?”

Tyra smiled again, her lips closed, her contentment sealed in. She wasn’t showing off. Something had genuinely made her happy and warm inside.

Stacy rested her elbows on the table. She’d seen it too. Pride that came from a secret. A piece of knowledge that fed Tyra’s arrogance.

Was that why she’d waived having an attorney with her? She wanted to share what she knew?

“Something’s on your mind. What is it?”

Tyra’s smile vanished. “Nothing.”

“It is. I know that look. Something made you happy. Something about the Administrator? You’re really in deep with him, aren’t you? ”

The smile returned, not big or obvious, but with a satisfaction too powerful to suppress, too strong to stay hidden.

Stacy wagged a finger. “There it is. You see? You know something.”

Tyra spoke quietly. “It’s just…me and the Administrator. We’ve got this special connection, see?”

Anja sat up straight. “Thought so. Never heard of anyone having a special connection with the Administrator. You really must be his favorite.”

Tyra arched her neck. She looked like she was enjoying this. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Tell me.”

Tyra leaned forward as much as the table would allow. “We’ve DMed.”

Anja seemed as unimpressed as Ander felt. “Doesn’t everyone do that?”

“Don’t think so.” Tyra flicked her head, a lock of loose hair straying from behind her ear. “And I got an answer. I knew about the prophecy before anyone, because I’m smart, worldly, and the Administrator knows it.”

The killer actually appeared to be turned on. It made Ander sick.

But there it was. Anja glanced at Stacy, who was on her feet and heading for the door. Anja followed.

Ander realized what they were thinking and hurried out into the hall to meet them. There was no need to ask Tyra what the Administrator had said.

Unlike most of the apps on Tyra’s phone, Dispatch automatically logged her out whenever she closed the device.

The warrant they had only covered the phone itself.

To access the app’s contents, they needed a second warrant—and cooperation from the app’s developers.

Like most tech companies, they dragged their feet, citing user privacy and legal red tape.

Stacy brought out her phone and made a call. She put it on speaker so Ander and Anja could listen in.

“Mac, has Dispatch responded to the warrant for Tyra’s DMs yet? She just confirmed she spoke directly to the Administrator. We need eyes on that thread.”

“I was just about to call you and let you know they delivered the login information after much kicking and screaming.” Mac sounded excited. “I’m logging in now. Hang tight.” The line went dead.

Stacy blew out a long breath. “That’s good news.”

It sure was.

Ander paced. This would be their first one-on-one exchange from the Administrator. It might be nothing. Or it might be the thread that finally unraveled everything.

Moments later, Stacy’s phone pinged. She glanced at the screen.

“Mac found something. A couple weeks ago, Tyra messaged him about a tablet she saw at the Louvre while traveling with her dad and stepmom.”

Ander linked his hands behind his head so he wouldn’t punch the wall. “And…?”

She scrolled. “And he answered. Time-stamped a minute later. He told her the Louvre’s collection is trash. Says there’s better stuff in the U.S., but it’s all hidden in storage. He just…oh.”

Ander stepped closer. “What?”

“There was another message from him last Wednesday.” She read the next line aloud. “‘I just saw something that’s better than anything you can find at the Louvre.’”

Ander’s pulse kicked. “That’s it. That has to be the artifact. The one tied to the Day of Changing bullshit.”

The one that turned into a death sentence for my wife .

Forcing his thoughts from that dark path, he refocused back on Stacy, who was in the process of placing a call.

“Mac, we need to start a calling campaign. Start with the universities of the experts we’ve already spoken to and see if there are check-in logs. We need to know who asked to see their tablets right before that message was sent.”

“ Start with them?” Mac’s eyebrows were almost to her hairline.

“Then we’ll have to research museums, libraries, and universities with the resources to store ancient artifacts.”

“That’s…a lot.”

“Then we’d better get rolling.”