How to Disappear(78)

I’ve gone from being criminal conspirator to being the clean-cut dupe, according to everyone but Agent Birdwell. I’m back to being trusted with Wi-Fi, my phone, and sharp objects.

Calvin, who gets that the phone (which my lawyer says to use with caution) might not be entirely private, clears his throat. “My only question would be, who else is bankrolling your lawyer? Because obviously you’re not going to be giving him any more business.”

I’ve got the same lawyer who represented my dad the time he got indicted for selling something to someone in Angola. My mom gave Mr. Ferro to me and not to Don presumably because I’m the horse to bet on if you want one kid who’s not behind bars.

“Have you no respect for organized crime?”

Calvin says, “Don’t dick around. This isn’t funny.”

“Calm down. I’m on the bus straight back to Boy Scout camp as soon as Don testifies.”

There’s a long pause. “Nobody’s so stupid that they think you did anything, are they? They know you were just trying to warn her?”

It occurs to me that if this goes much further, I could be turning him into an accomplice. I say, “Have fun with your Mermaid Ninjas,” and hang up while he’s still groaning.

My attorney says, “Talk to your lawyer and only your lawyer,” but he acts pained when I do.

I say, “To be honest, there were times when I didn’t know what I was going to do. It was like being on autopilot, but you don’t know where you’re going to land.”

“You won’t be sharing that unless somebody asks you under oath.”

“Asks me what, specifically?”

“If trying to save your mother was like being on autopilot and not knowing where you were going to land. In those words,” Mr. Ferro says. “Then you can say yes.”

“Got it.”

Mr. Ferro paces around the hotel room, adjusting his tie. “I don’t think you’ve got it. You’re a lucky kid. Don’t screw it up.”

I’m the lucky kid whose brother wanted to become the Yeager clan’s right-hand man by doing Alex Yeager a favor: getting me to kill Nicolette. This would prove how useful Don could be to the Yeagers, a chip off the old block—except that Karl Yeager had no idea what his kid, Alex, was up to, and Alex Yeager wanted to keep it that way.

When they asked Don to explain how it was that his mother got threatened in three different ways, he whined that it was Alex Yeager’s fault so many times, he sounded like a parrot with a limited supply of sentences. And Alex Yeager was such a piece of work, even if he could tell his side of the story from the grave, it would be a case of dueling liars.

I’m left not knowing the magnitude of what Don put over on me or how much I get to hate him—if I hunted down America’s sweetheart to save my mom and Don and myself from Alex Yeager’s machinations, or if the whole thing was a Donald Manx production. It’s like having a scab you can never tear off completely.

Damn f*cking Don.

What I do know is I shot down a man in cold blood.

Mr. Ferro says, “That man was charging a sixteen-year-old girl with a knife.”

“A bread knife.”

“Did you have time to process that fact? No you did not! Two experts say so. And who knows what Alex Yeager would have done with that knife? His girlfriend was close to decapitated when he got done with her.”

This image starts to bring up lunch.

“Wait. Was Alex Yeager seeing Connie?”

Mr. Ferro rolls his eyes. “Alex Yeager was a buffoon. Who goes running to his father’s accountant with his girlfriend’s body?”

“Accountant to thugs, right? Mendes must have loved my father’s spreadsheets.”

“Your father was a legitimate businessman!” Mr. Ferro roars at me. “Esteban Mendes is a legitimate accountant!” He stops to catch his breath. “Anybody asks about your father, you wait for me to object. Then you stop speaking.”

“It would be a lot easier if someone would tell me what’s happening. Why can’t I talk to Nicolette?”

With the hundreds of dollars an hour of Manx money he’s getting for defending me, it would be nice if Mr. Ferro could disguise his annoyance. “Nicolette Holland is sixteen years old. She’s got a stepfather who doesn’t want her talking to you. Ergo, no conversation.”

“She’s not the most obedient daughter on earth.”

“She is now. And I don’t want you pissing her off. She’s told her story, and we don’t want it to change.”

“What story?”

“I’m telling you this, and all you do is nod and listen. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles. “Cute girl. She says you got to California, frantic to warn her that people were after her. That was her word, ‘frantic.’ To quote her”—he digs around in the files he wheeled in here—“?‘Like I didn’t already know people were after me? Why did he think I was hiding, for fun?

“?‘Jack was all, Hello, Nicolette, I was sent here to off you, but never fear, I’m Dudley Do-Right.

“?‘Then I explain it was Steve behind the whole thing, and Jack’s all, Oh no, it was Karl Yeager; my brother said it was Karl Yeager; your dad would never do that. And I say, Really, do you know Steve? Did you hear what he said?