“I don’t want to go back to my charmless apartment,” Atlas said, “but I must.”

Cricket soon left the room, with a look that suggested she thought she was doing me a favor. The dishwasher loaded, I dried my hands.

“I really meant to catch you alone tonight,” Atlas said. “But then Cricket waltzed in with food, like she could sense I was starving.” He paused, smiling slightly, hoping I might say something.

So, I did. “I’m glad to see you.” I leaned my hip against the counter and hoped I appeared relaxed.

“Me, too.” He ran his hand across his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been after Miles put you on leave. I’ve just been traveling so much.” He crossed his arms, his fingers drummed against the short sleeve of his T-shirt. “It’s a flimsy excuse, but—well, I’ve been in Arizona, actually.”

“What’s in Arizona?” He dropped his eyes. “Oh,” I said quietly, getting it. Gregory Richardson’s lover. “Is she nice?” I asked. “Is everyone going to feel sorry for her?”

“Polite, yes. Overly so. She is determined to charm me.” He smiled reassuringly. “I won’t be swayed, don’t worry.”

“And the things she’s saying about my father... Will people end up hating him more than they already do?” I didn’t want that. Although I knew he probably deserved it. These competing thoughts I held simultaneously.

Atlas chewed his lip. Then: “I’ve—In the course of following this story, I’ve stumbled into something. And I’m not sure. I need to dig further. I still have at least a dozen more sources I want to talk to, more research.”

“More?” I asked dimly. “Is this why you’re pushing the pub. date?”

He stepped near enough to see my hands trembling, as they tend to do right before bad news comes down like a guillotine. I think he saw it, because he continued gently, “Daisy, your father had been stealing from his office expense account for much longer than originally reported.”

All my affect, all I had constructed to appear calm and cool in front of Atlas, was completely swept off its foundation. Unable to move, I cast about for alternate explanations, for reasons this might not be true. “How much longer?”

“Off and on, at least a decade. Maybe more.”

“Decade.” It was barely a word. More like an exhale.