“It was on a timer, wasn’t it? The bomb?” I wait, but of course they don’t answer. That doesn’t stop me from seeing the truth in their eyes. “He wasn’t supposed to be late. Alexei is never late. If I” — hadn’t drugged him — “had to guess, I’d say whoever set the bomb knew that.”
“The Russian delegation is handling this situation internally. It was an official embassy car on official Russian territory. We haven’t examined the wreckage, haven’t removed any bodies. We know only what they tell us. And they tell us mechanical malfunction.”
I can tell by the way he says it that Officer Smiley doesn’t think there was a driver, a body. Now at least I know the Adrian police are buying into one conspiracy theory. They just have the wrong one.
“Someone killed Spence. And then someone tried to kill Alexei right before Alexei was able to talk. You can’t possibly think that’s a coincidence.”
“So you’re saying that you think there is some vast international conspiracy at play here? Some cover-up?”
It’s all I can do not to turn and stare at Ms. Chancellor. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Smiley leans a little closer, places his elbows on his knees, like we’re confidants. Like we’re friends. “Now, come, Grace. We know you have an active imagination.”
Times like this I want to yell, I want to scream. I want to tell the world that I was wrong about the Scarred Man, but I was right, too. I was just a different kind of —
“Crazy.”
The officers stare at me, not blinking. I go on. “That’s what you meant to say, isn’t it? That I was institutionalized? That I have a history of psychotic breaks? It’s okay if it is. I really am —”
“Gracie?”
I turn at the sound of Jamie’s voice. He’s standing in the doorway, hurt and confused. He looks like maybe I’ve betrayed him. I’m talking about his little sister, after all. It would be easier if I’d just act like everyone else. Pretend.
“What’s going on here?” my brother asks Ms. Chancellor as both cops rise to their feet.
“James Blakely?” the woman asks.
“What do you want with my sister?”
Smiley extends a hand, but Jamie lets it hang, empty in the air.
“Well,” the officer says, pulling back. “Good to meet you. We were hoping to have a moment of your time as well. We have a few questions about —”
“Gracie, come on. We’re leaving.” Jamie jerks his head toward the door.
“Mr. Blakely, please come in. Have a seat.” That Officer Smiley doesn’t have the right to offer anyone a seat in the US embassy is something that no one mentions.
Jamie stays at the door, his own form of rebellion.
“What’s going on here?” he asks.
“These officers had some questions for Grace,” Ms. Chancellor tells him.
“Please, join us, Mr. Blakely. We have some questions for you, too.”
Jamie doesn’t budge until Ms. Chancellor says, “James. Please.”
Grudgingly, Jamie comes around and takes a seat beside me. It feels like I have a guard, a protector. It’s something I haven’t felt in ages, but I don’t let myself think about how much I’ve missed it.
“Do you have any idea why Mr. Volkov wasn’t in the car yesterday?” Smiley asks me.
“No. But I know John Spencer is dead and the boy who was getting ready to start talking about that night is supposed to be dead. So please tell me you people don’t still think this is just about some kids trying to blow off steam at some party.”
He doesn’t speak, so I cross my arms, defiant. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me the truth. But please don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“Let’s talk about that night. Tell us about the party,” Smiley says.
“It was nothing special. My friends went. So I went. It was just your typical, run-of-the-mill high school party.”
Smiley slides his gaze onto my brother. “But you and Mr. Spencer are no longer in school, are you, Mr. Blakely? So why did you go?”
“We felt like it,” Jamie says, and Smiley turns back to me.
“And you talked to Mr. Spencer there?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing really,” I say, honestly not evading the question. It just seems so irrelevant. So far in the past.
I will not tell this man that Spence kissed me. I will not tell him how that made me feel or what happened next.
“Where did you talk to him?”
“At the party.” I’m so exasperated I do everything shy of roll my eyes.
“I mean where, exactly, at the party? What parts of the island did he make it to?”
“Oh.” I think a bit. “The beach, of course.” Everyone nods. After all, they’ve already seen the video. “And we might have wandered just a little bit.”
“Wandered where?” the cop says.
“Inland. There’s kind of a clearing. We saw some old ruins and looked at them for a little while.”
“Have you heard enough?” Ms. Chancellor asks, shifting, reminding everyone that she is still my grandfather’s pit bull. A pit bull in high heels.
“Almost. Mr. Spencer and Mr. Volkov got into a fight that night, did they not?” This time he looks at me.