“This was a terrible idea,” I say. “I should never have let you talk me into this. What if he calls Gram?”

“Or turns her in to the government,” Olivia says.

“Way to make me feel better.” I start walking away as fast as I can without looking back.

Olivia glances over her shoulder, then pulls me behind the next office building. “I think he’s following us,” she gasps. “Run!”

19. Amygdala

Our amygdala is an almond-shaped cluster of neurons. It’s responsible for our memory of emotions, especially fear. It’s our alarm system. Panic is a direct response to this fear. This is why Olivia and I run. This is why we don’t stop until we’re sure there’s no way he followed us.

Olivia bends over and tries to catch her breath. “He was super creepy.”

“Do you think he really was chasing us?” I look around to make sure we’re safe.

Olivia stomps her foot and makes a low frustrated sound in her throat. “Now how are we supposed to find out what he knows?”

We walk in silence. At this point I’m not holding out much hope that I’ll ever translate the journal. We catch the bus to my house and manage to find seats together.

Olivia sighs. “We need to tell Max. Maybe he can look up information about Yakov.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

I text Max and give him Yakov’s name and the address of his business. The late-afternoon sun shines through the bus window and my stomach rumbles. I missed lunch.

“He says he’s on it,” I say. “I’m not sure how long it will take, and I need to get home.”

Olivia nods. “Good idea. You can get Gram to tell you another story.”

“Maybe.”

Olivia scrolls through her phone with complete focus. “There’s a surprising number of Yakov Zhabins in the Bay Area,” she says.

“There is a whole Russian neighborhood in the city.”

“You mean Russian Hill?”

“I guess,” I say.

“I think this one might be our Yakov.” Olivia excitedly jabs her finger at her phone. “See—seventy-one years old and lives in San Rafael. That’s close to his office. Maybe we should stake out his house?”

The bus lurches to a stop, and we hop off. As we hike up the hill to my house, I think about how different my life is now from how it was last week. If anyone said I’d be investigating an old Russian guy, I’d say they’d been watching too much television. And yet here I am, pretty much agreeing to whatever Olivia comes up with.

Clay’s screams reach us while we’re still three houses down. I recognize the pitch of his cries immediately and break into a run. I hear Olivia gasping for breath as she tries to keep up.