Wait a minute, Jonah thought.
He fiddled with the pouch, trying as hard as he could to pull it off. But it must have been connected with some perfect futuristic superstrong glue. Even using all his strength, Jonah couldn’t get it to budge.
A scene played back in Jonah’s mind.
Hold on—I’m scared the Elucidator is going to fall off, Andrea had said, back when they were tumbling through time, back when they still had the Elucidator. She’d reached over and touched the pouch, in the dark, when Jonah and Katherine couldn’t see her very well. The strap’s loose, she’d said. I’ll just hold the Elucidator myself.
But there wasn’t a strap. There wasn’t any reason that Andrea would have needed to take the Elucidator out of the pouch.
Unless she wanted to lose it.
Jonah straightened up, letting go of Dare’s collar. Jonah glared at Andrea, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“You’re the one who lied,” he said.
Katherine was the one who reacted first.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, switching her baffled gaze from Andrea to Jonah.
“‘Jonah made me lose the Elucidator,’” Jonah mimicked in a mincing, whiny voice that didn’t actually sound anything like Andrea’s. “‘It’s all Jonah’s fault.’” Okay, she hadn’t exactly said that, but Jonah was mad. “She was lying!”
“Jonah, you bumped into her,” Katherine said. “It was a mistake. You were trying to help. Nobody thinks you meant to do that.”
It was weird to have Katherine acting like the peacemaker—the calm, reasonable one. Somehow that made Jonah madder.
“But I didn’t do anything wrong, even by mistake. It’s all her fault,” he accused. He pointed right at Andrea. “She took the Elucidator out and threw it away. On purpose!”
The color drained from Andrea’s face. She began shaking her head from side to side, frantically.
“No,” she wailed. “I didn’t!”
“Who are you working for?” Jonah asked. “Gary? Hodge?”
Those were JB’s enemies, the ones who had kidnapped Andrea and Jonah and all the other missing kids from history in the first place. The ones who were trying to get rich selling famous kids from history to adoptive parents in the future. With Jonah’s help, JB had sent both kidnappers to time prison. But was time prison a place someone could escape from?
“I’m not working for anybody!” Andrea cried. “I just . . .” She kept talking, but Jonah couldn’t understand a single word because she was sobbing too hard now.
“Jonah!” Katherine scolded, hitting him on the shoulder. “You had better have a good excuse for making all those wild accusations. For making her cry!”
For an instant, Katherine sounded just like their mother, making Jonah’s heart ache a little. It was entirely possible that, because of Andrea, he and Katherine would never see their parents again. But Katherine-sounding-like-Mom also made Jonah feel ashamed. He wasn’t usually the kind of kid who made people cry. And the way Andrea looked so fragile and sad had made him want to help her so much—which made him feel even more stupid, now that he knew she’d double-crossed them. . . .
How could he feel so many different things all at once?
Jonah let out a deep sigh.
“Look,” he told Katherine, pointing to the pouch on Dare’s collar. “This is perfectly secure. There was no reason for Andrea to take the Elucidator out. She must have been planning to get rid of it the whole time. And that’s why she’s been acting weird ever since we got here.” He remembered her silent crying, her hesitation to shake JB’s hand, her insistence that they go back in time without getting debriefed. “Really, ever since we met her.”
Katherine reached down to examine the pouch on the dog’s collar for herself. She pulled it this way and that, tugging on it with every bit as much force as Jonah had used. Dare whined a little—this couldn’t be comfortable for him—and Katherine let go.
“Andrea?” she said doubtfully.
Andrea took a huge breath, one that threatened to turn into just another sob. But then she grimaced, clearly struggling to hold back the tears.
“I didn’t mean to lose the Elucidator,” she said in a small voice. “Honest. That was a mistake. But—”
“But what?” Jonah asked. He meant his voice to come out sounding cold and hard and self-righteous, like a prosecuting attorney on a TV show. But some of his other, confused emotions slipped into his voice instead.
He mostly sounded sympathetic.
Andrea sniffled. She leaned back against the fallen fence and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them close with her arms.
“The man came to my house last night,” she said. “Er—the last night before we left. I don’t know his name. I don’t know who he was working for. I don’t think he would have told me the truth if I’d asked. I knew he was from the future. It looked like he walked right out of the wall. And he knew . . . too much. About me.”
“So, what, he blackmailed you?” Katherine asked. “What had you done—murdered somebody?”
Jonah could tell Katherine was just trying to make a joke, to lighten the mood. But this was evidently the wrong thing to say. Sorrow spread across Andrea’s face, and Jonah thought she was going to fall apart again. Then, just like before, a sort of mask seemed to slide over her entire expression, hiding her emotions. But it didn’t happen so instantaneously this time, or so completely. Jonah felt like he could still see cracks, broken places that didn’t heal.
“Nobody blackmailed me,” Andrea said. “At least, not blackmail like in the movies, where it’s all about money. He didn’t even ask for anything in exchange.”
“In exchange for what?” Jonah asked. “What are you talking about?” He could feel the dread creeping over him. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck; goosebumps rose on his arms. Whatever Andrea was about to say, it was going to be awful.