“That nurse drugged and tried to hang my daughter on Mike’s orders. She’s not exactly a credible source.”

Jill shrugs. “The pilot had shut the cockpit door to protect himself, and the nurse says she was prepping a syringe to sedate you. No one saw the shooting but you and Grant.” Jill says this, like she hasn’t already read it in the report, like saying it aloud in front of Iris might pry off new information.

“I shot him dead,” Iris says. “Never ask me again.”

*  *  *

The safe house is in the Virginia countryside. The morning mist burns away and the January sunshine is bright. Iris likes to sit on the porch (she never thought a safe house could have a porch, but this one does, enclosed with bulletproof glass) and drink her coffee and think about what her family will do next.

For now, the kids are being privately tutored by a teacher provided by the Agency, and Kyle is taking a break from work. Iris stands on the porch, watching her two children on the lawn below the backyard deck. Julia looks healthy again, her cheeks flushed as she and her brother toss a football between them. Grant looks…Grant looks like Anya, that poor lost soul, misled by Danielle, used by people higher than her both here and in Russia. The woman who changed her mind, who maybe was scared to leave Mike, or scared to stay and keep spying on him and wasn’t afraid to kill to get her baby back. She aches for Anya now. Mike had been assessed as a potential heir to the Russian president. The pressure on Anya must have been intense. Grant’s going to look more and more Anya’s son the older he gets, her loveliness strong in his face.

She loves both her children so much.

Kyle brings her coffee, and they stand together at the railing. It’s been hard to talk, shell-shocked as they both are by the truth about their child, about their friends, about the past.

“He understands why you lied. To protect him. But you can’t protect him from the aftereffects.”

She glances at him. “What?”

“That he shot Mike.”

“He didn’t,” she says, steady, now staring at Kyle. “I did.”

“You don’t have to lie, Iris.”

“Grant had the steak knife and wounded Mike. So I took the gun and shot Mike. That’s what happened. Grant and I agree. I feel like you always talking about it is just unnecessary.”

“It’s not Anya all over again. We don’t have to lie.”

She won’t look at him, and then she does, straight-on, staring. “Grant believes Danielle killed his birth mother. Let him believe that. Please.”

Kyle starts to speak and then stops. What is there to say? Nothing.