Elena walked toward the kitchen counter and opened a black equipment case.
“If we do this, we do it carefully.”
My father exhaled through his nose.
“Apparently I have lost control of my own operation.”
“You never had control,” I said. “You only had secrets.”
His expression changed.
Not anger. Recognition.
Perhaps, for the first time, he understood the difference.
Elena gave me a small transmitter disguised as a coat button. Jackson would wait two streets away. Mara would remain at the safe apartment with my father, though she protested until I reminded her that someone needed to preserve the files if everything went wrong.
Before I left, my father touched my arm.
“Camille.”
I faced him.
“I should have told you about the trust,” he said. “And about Jasper’s visit.”
“Yes.”
“I kept thinking I needed certainty before I frightened you.”
“You kept waiting for certainty while everyone else made choices for me.”
“I know that now.”
His bruised face looked suddenly vulnerable.
I kissed his cheek.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“So am I.”
Elena drove me back toward the house.
The rain had slowed to a mist by the time we reached my street. Warm light glowed behind the curtains of neighboring homes. A bicycle lay abandoned on one lawn. Somewhere nearby, someone was practicing the same piano scale again and again.
Our house stood at the end of the block.
The porch light was on.
Jasper’s car waited in the driveway.
Elena stopped around the corner.
“Say the word ‘bluebird’ if you want me to enter,” she said. “Do not confront him about the pills until you understand his state of mind.”
“I understand.”
“Do not let him take you into a room with no exit.”
“I understand.”
She touched the hidden earpiece beneath her hair.
“I’ll hear everything.”
I got out of the car.
Each step toward my front door felt separate from the next.
The rosemary bushes beside the path had grown too tall. Jasper had promised to trim them on Sunday. Through the living room window, I saw the lamp we had bought during our first year of marriage, after spending an entire afternoon disagreeing about shades.
The front door opened before I reached it.
Jasper stood there.
His tie was gone. His white shirt was wrinkled, and his face held a degree of fear I had never seen before.
“Camille.”
I stopped at the bottom of the steps.
He came outside but did not touch me.
“Where have you been?”
“At Mara’s.”
“I called her shop.”
“We were in the back office.”
“Why was your phone off?”
“The battery died.”
He stared at me, searching for something.
Then his shoulders dropped.
“Your father’s alive.”
It was not a question.
I had prepared lies in the car. A dozen versions. Surprise. Confusion. Tears.
Instead, I said, “Yes.”
Jasper looked toward the dark street.
“Come inside.”
“I’m fine here.”
“Please.”
The word was quiet, stripped of authority.
I entered but remained near the door.
The house smelled of coffee and rain-damp wool. On the dining table sat a black leather folder I had never seen before.
Jasper closed the door.
“Did he show you the video?” he asked.