As far as the OPIC building and the Sleep Control Program, Ingrid had relayed everything we learned to the Director of the CIA. It would be up to him to disclose any information to President Sullivan, though she urged him to try to keep the investigation in-house.

Last night, Ingrid and I had spent a magical night re-christening the new home, but she was now officially back on duty — they even let Billy come back a couple days early — and the two had pulled their first homicide investigation eight hours earlier.

As for Jennifer Nubers, Ingrid, my father, and I were all in agreement it was best to keep the case as it was. The files went back to whence they came, except for the journal pages, which may have gone missing and may have found their way to Delaware.

I watch Lassie play in jingle heaven for another couple minutes, then ask him, “How about you pick one and I put the other three in the safe?”

Meow.

“Yellow. Are you sure?”

Meow.

“Green. Is that your final answer?”

Meow.

“Okay, I am picking for you.”

I pick up the red, green, and yellow jingle balls in my right hand — my left hand is heavily bandaged — leaving him the blue one. I walk into the closet and open the safe. I set the jingle balls inside.

There are two other things in the safe. My mother’s file. And a flash drive.

On the way out of the laboratory, I snagged the flash drive containing my mother’s confession from the computer.

I found it ironic that I now possessed the object the goons were looking for when they destroyed the condo.

“Where is the flash drive?” my mom had asked me.

“It’s in my safe, bitch!”

That’s what I would say to her if I ever got the chance. Of course, I uploaded a copy of the video to the cloud where it would sit in perpetuity, and Ingrid had a copy in a safety deposit box at her bank.

“Come and get it,” I would add.

The condo was now equipped with a state-of-the-art security system. Stuff you couldn’t even get commercially. Expensive stuff. If my mother’s goons made another attempt to break in, they wouldn’t get far.

I close the safe and spin the combination, then walk back into the bedroom. I stare at Lassie, thinking there is something I was meaning to tell him. It takes a moment for it to come to me.

When it does, I pick up the blue jingle ball, the only way to get his attention.

Meow.

“Just a sec,” I say. “I have some big news to tell you.”

Meow.

“You remember the redhead from Ewen’s place. The big tabby.”

Meow.

“Her name isn’t Bertha. It’s Peaches.”

Meow.

“Yes, she should have eaten more peaches and less pizza.” I pause, then add, “Guess what? She’s pregnant.”

His eyes bulge.