“What happened fifteen years ago?”
For the first time, Samuel’s expression shifted.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“Ask Daniel.”
“I have.”
“Then he hasn’t told you everything.”
Daniel spoke sharply.
“Enough.”
Samuel smiled at him.
“You still have your mother’s temper.”
Daniel went pale.
“My mother had every reason to hate you.”
A shadow crossed Samuel’s face.
“Your mother made choices.”
“She spent years hiding from you.”
“Because Robert encouraged her paranoia.”
Daniel took a step toward him.
I caught his sleeve.
“No.”
Daniel stopped.
Samuel seemed amused.
“Good,” he said to me. “Robert was always better when you were around too.”
I wanted to slap him.
Instead I said, “Leave.”
Samuel’s smile disappeared.
“I need a box.”
“Which box?”
“The one Robert labeled CHICAGO — 2008.”
Daniel looked sharply toward the stacks behind us.
Samuel noticed.
And smiled
again.
There.
That tiny movement from Daniel had told him everything.
