I blink, blood pumping through my veins in a loud ocean of noise. Do I want to know? Is it better to know, or is it better to pretend? If I could go back to when Gram was just Gram, would I do it?

“Okay.” I stretch the paper out on the desk. Gram seems to stare at me as if I’m betraying her. “Call it.”

“Wait!” Olivia paces from the desk to me. “What if they trace the call to us? Will we get in trouble? I’m too young for prison!”

“Chill,” Max says with a grin. “This number is to the barn. We do tons of business with people in Europe. There’re some crazy-valuable horses here. We can just say we dialed the wrong number or something.”

“Not if you ask about Gram by name,” I remind him.

He picks up the phone and raises his brows expectantly. “They won’t know it’s us.”

“But what if it hurts her?” I point to Gram’s picture. “What if we get her in trouble?”

“With who? You keep insisting she’s not a spy.” Max shrugs. “We don’t know if we don’t try. How can you help her if you don’t know who the enemy is?”

Olivia claps her hands nervously. “Just call already. Right, Lulu? We’ll totally help you if this goes wrong.”

“Okay,” I whisper, the familiar ache in my stomach kicking up from mildly nauseous to might-puke-any-second-now.

Max punches the number in and waits. “It’s ringing.”

“How weird,” Olivia says under her breath so only I can hear. “A phone that rings.”

“He’s helping,” I whisper, too nervous to laugh.

“Hello,” Max says. “Who is this?”

He hops off the desk and walks as far as the cord will allow. Olivia and I move closer so we can hear. A man’s voice booms so loud, Max holds the receiver away from his ear.

“Do you speak English?” Max shouts.

“He’s Russian, not deaf,” Olivia mutters.

“A little,” the man answers, the words faint but distinct. “You are American, da? Only American will call me in middle of night. Good for you that I’m old man and don’t sleep much.” The man chuckles and then coughs for several seconds.

My eyes go wide. “The time,” I whisper. “What time is it there?”

Olivia looks at her phone. “One in the morning?”

“Sorry about that, sir. May I ask who this is?” Max asks, this time in a normal voice.

“Sir, may I,” Olivia whispers mockingly.

Max rolls his eyes, and I motion for her to stop.

“You called me,” the man says once his coughing stops. “But I will answer if you tell me who you are.”

Max points at the phone with a questioning look. “Um, a friend of someone we think you might know.”