“No sense covering up for her now. Brandon Kyle wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t crazy. Lisa killed that movie producer and his girlfriend in the Gandalf. Not directly, of course. That’s the beauty of the world today. You never have to actually be there. She planted someone at Gandalf HQ years ago. Someone with the skills to plant a tiny, little virus. A random bit of nastiness that wouldn’t hit the whole fleet, but a car or two. Like dropping a cockroach into some cake batter. Most of the cake, it’s okay, but you get that one slice . . .”

“Did you know?”

“How could I not know? She bragged about it all the time.”

“And that woman? The one who used to work for Brandon Kyle, who came to Arrival? Who had that accident in the bathroom and died?”

Ruskin smiled at her like she was a five-year-old who’d just figured out how to tie her own shoes.

“What do you think?”

He looked contemplative again. “Maybe I should go out there and talk to them. Tell them everything Lisa did.”

“And what you did, too,” Sandra said.

“What?”

“It’s pretty clear you hated Lisa Carver as much as Brandon Kyle did. Maybe you were working together.” She thought about what she was going to say next. “Maybe you helped him pull off what’s happened here today.”

Someone else rapped loudly on the door.

Sandra turned her head again and shouted, “In a minute! We’re drafting a statement!”

From the other side, a man shouted: “Sandra?”

“Joe?”

“Yeah!”

Sandra gave Ruskin one last accusatory look before unlocking the door and opening it. Joe put his arms around her, pulled her close, and Sandra briefly laid her head on his chest. But she quickly pulled away and looked up at him.

“The kids?”

Joe shook his head. “I checked the house. No sign.”

The air seemed to go out of Sandra. “Shit,” she said, turning away, putting a hand to her cheek to catch a tear. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“But listen,” Joe said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t see anything to suggest anything bad’s happened to them. They’re out there, somewhere, but I’m betting they’re okay. They’re smart kids.”

“I’ve tried to call, they won’t answer . . .”

She turned her attention back to Ruskin.

“You son of a bitch,” she said. “That’s what you did, isn’t it? Made a deal with Kyle. Was he here today? Is he Stapleton? Did you help him do this?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as Sandra closed the distance between them, backing him into a corner.

“Sandra,” Joe said. “What’s happening here?”