“At this point we don’t know who to trust. That’s what I need to work on now. In the meantime I need you to stay here or at the congresswoman’s, where you’re safe.”

She sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Abby, this is no game. Men have tried to kill you.” Ben glanced at me. “Both of you.” He looked back at her. “Meanwhile…your grandfather would like to see you.”

Abby’s face lit up, her anger sliding away. “But…I thought you said—”

“You can’t go to the hospital to meet him. But we may have figured out a way for you to meet in VR.”

“They let him do that?” I asked.

Ben looked at me. “Not exactly. They won’t allow him full Grid access. But he thought he could convince Brandt to let him have some time in a secure, localized VR environment. Something to give him a break from the white room where he’s being kept. If Brandt allows it, he’s pretty sure we can sneak in through a password-protected back door. He gave me all the information. That man is brilliant. We’ll need to get Abby a portable VR hookup. I’ll work on that. And it may not work at all”—he glanced at Abby—“so don’t get your hopes too high. Not yet, anyway.” He stepped toward the door, then looked back. “Until then, stay put. Both of you.”

Ben left, and Abby ran over and threw her arms around me. “Creighton, he’s alive! We can—”

Her expression grew troubled. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to sort through what Ben had told her—and what I had told her about Ray earlier. She sat on the bed next to me and examined my face. “Creighton, did you know he was alive?”

I averted my eyes from hers. I felt sick. Suddenly the deal I had struck with Nichols seemed the most ill-advised decision I had ever made. “I didn’t ask, Abby. I only told you what Nichols asked me to tell you. That was his price for doing the brain transplant on me. I suppose…I suppose I didn’t want to know.” I looked back up and into her eyes. “I’m very sorry.”

Abby looked at me in silence for what seemed an eternity, her face blank and stony. Finally she rose from the bed and walked out the door.

Three hours later Abby returned. She walked over to the sink and placed a cup and a small bag on the counter. “I brought you a drink and some cookies.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “Creighton, I want you to know that I forgive you.”

I wanted to reach for her, but I felt too ashamed. “Abby, I don’t know what to say. When Nichols said he would—”