I’m tempted to say it, to clarify exactly what I didn’t see—that there wasn’t a huge Latino population on the pier during the attack like the papers are claiming. But a warning in my head screams to keep my mouth shut about this. He isn’t interested in the truth. Not until I can prove it. If he’s even the person I can trust with the evidence once I have it.

“That was a campaign ad, right? For your last election?” I cock my head. “I’m sure I’ve heard that story before—word for word.”

“There was an ad that referenced my first wife’s story, yes. A family history like that, well, it empowered me at least to do the right thing.”

My mom sips her drink, breaking the quiet tension.

The mayor holds his hand out to Richard again. “Richard, give them our number.”

Richard slides two cards toward my mom and me. The cards have Richard’s name and number on them, not the mayor’s, which I’m thankful for.

The mayor stands. “If you think of anything at all, please call. We’re all on the same team here.”

Once again Richard focuses on the TV, and I wonder how someone like him got involved with the mayor. They seem like complete opposites.

I turn to find Cullen and me on the screen. Emi Vega, who wasn’t even there at that point, has footage of the pathetic interview I gave after school. Cullen completes his spiel about my family and me needing privacy. His schmooze is more overt than his father’s. I can’t believe anyone falls for either of them.

The mayor bows his head. “I’m glad Cullen was there to help you. These reporters can be real bastards.” His voice is different, and when he smiles for a brief second, it’s sadder. Distant. Genuine? I start to wonder if I’m wrong about him.

“I really am glad you’re okay, Amelia.”

The mayor buttons his jacket and walks toward the door. Richard follows.

“Mrs. Finch, thank you for having us in your home tonight. It’s always nice to see you.”

The mayor reaches out and shakes her hand.

She dips her chin. “Very kind of you to check in on us.”

My mom begins walking toward the foyer as well, but Richard holds up his hand for her to stop. “You might want to stay back. The second I open this door, those ‘bastards’ out there are going to attack.” For the first time, I notice the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Richard brushes the lapels on the mayor’s jacket. The mayor smiles, showing his teeth, as Richard bends his knees to check them—for food or coffee stains, I’m not sure. I can’t believe I’m witnessing one grown man groom another.