“We have to get him inside,” I say again. “We have to hide him. If we hide him then he’ll be okay. We can —”
Noah’s hand is on my arm. Calm radiates through his skin and into mine. It’s enough to make me want to cry, so I pull harder.
“Grace,” he says.
“Help me get him inside!”
“Grace,” he says again. “What’s wrong?”
But a better question is: What’s right?
My mother is dead and so is Spence. They’re both dead, and it’s too late to save them.
But it’s not too late to save Alexei.
“Alexei is innocent,” I say, my voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.
“So?” Noah prompts, and I look into his big brown eyes that have always felt as comforting as chocolate. I want to make him see. But I don’t want to make him change.
“So sometimes innocent people get hurt.”
Megan and Noah see them then, the ghosts that follow me. They hear the things that I can’t say.
“Grace,” Megan says, easing closer, “Alexei can’t stay here.”
“Of course he can’t. But he’s harder to move than I thought he would be.”
“No.” Noah’s voice is so soft it’s like he’s speaking to a child. “I think what Megan was trying to say is that Alexei has to turn himself in.”
“No. He’s got to go back to Moscow. He’ll be okay there. I think. At least, I hope so. They probably can’t get to him in Moscow.”
Neither Megan nor Noah asks who “they” are. They don’t mention my cracking voice or my shaking hands.
“I know I sound like a crazy person,” I tell them. “I know it. But you have to believe me. If he stays —”
“Gracie.” The voice is too far away. I only realize who is speaking when Megan drops to her knees and helps Alexei sit upright.
“What happened?” he asks.
Noah gives me a skeptical look before telling Alexei, “You took a little nap, my friend.”
While Noah works on the belt that binds Alexei’s feet, Megan pulls a pocketknife from somewhere and cuts through the shoestrings around his wrists.
“Alexei, don’t yell,” I tell him. “Just listen. You have to listen to me. Please. You have to go back to Moscow.”
“No!” It hurts for him to shout, I can tell, but he does it anyway. And when he stands, he’s a little unsteady, but that doesn’t stop him. “No. I will not run. I will do the honorable thing for my country and for yours. I must do this!” Then something seems to dawn on Alexei. “What time is it?” he asks.
Noah gives a somber nod. “It’s time.”
Alexei mumbles something in Russian then starts through the lawn, around the corner of the embassy and toward the street. I’m no longer worried that someone might see us at the top of the hill. I’m too afraid of what lies at the bottom.
“Alexei, don’t do this,” I plead.
“I must do this,” he says.
“No, you don’t have to. Okay. So you don’t want to go back to Moscow. Fine. Then stay here. Lay low until we can figure out who really killed Spence. Just —”
We’re on the street when Alexei turns. “It is a matter of honor, Grace.”
“Honor is overrated.”
“I will cooperate with their investigation, and the truth will come out.”
“No!” I grab his arm and stop him, lunge forward and block his way. “It won’t if they don’t want the truth to come out.”
“Who are ‘they,’ Gracie? Tell me.” Alexei’s voice is soft, worried. But not about the situation. About me. He thinks the world is too big and vast, too full of checks and balances for the truth to stay hidden forever. He still thinks the good guys always win.
“I … I don’t know. But don’t go, Alexei. I don’t know why, but I know it is a huge mistake. Please, don’t go.”
Reporters are in position, overlooking the mob and the Russian embassy. The press conference must have sent the cable news networks into a feeding frenzy. I can almost hear the talking heads now, speculating on exactly when the Russian ambassador’s son will appear and make the trip to police headquarters, when the next chapter of the story will begin. They keep their cameras trained on Russia’s gates.
“I’m late.” Alexei glances down the street as a long black car with Russian flags flying near the headlights pulls through the crowd and into the Russian courtyard. “I should be on my way to the police station by now.”
He looks at Megan and Noah.
“It’ll be okay,” Noah says. When he glances at me, I know he’s not talking about the police. “We’ll take care of her.”
“Yeah.” Megan stands on her tiptoes and kisses Alexei on the cheek.
Then he turns to me. I’m sure that I’m not crying. There has to be some other excuse for the way my eyes go blurry and my throat begins to burn. And yet when Alexei’s fingers come to my cheeks, I notice that they smooth away moisture, but that can’t be right. I’m supposed to be all out of tears.