If he thinks for a second that you know or remember anything of value, he’ll kill you for it. This, about the man who claimed his only priority was my safety—and then spent two days driving me to Indiana to retrieve my past. I think back to the night I saw Rolan behind the Dropfly—was it only two nights ago?—arguing with Luka. Luka, who saw me, but hid it from Rolan before chasing us halfway to Kokadjo. In an effort to do what? Get me away from Rolan so he could kill me?

And then I see them again, walking away, Luka’s arm draped over Rolan’s shoulders as if they were old fraternity brothers.

Only then does it occur to me that they could have been working in tandem, that the chase up Lily Bay Road was all for show. If the endgame was to get me to return to the Center, it worked. And if what Ivan says is true and Rolan is a killer, I don’t dare return to the Center tonight. I don’t have that long either way; if Rolan’s phone doesn’t ring in a matter of hours, he’ll know something’s wrong.

I tentatively open the bathroom door, half-expecting to find Rolan standing there, gun drawn. But the room is quiet and dark, the sun having long set so that the only light comes from under the door to the sitting room. I pause near the nightstand, fingers on the phone. But it’s one of those types with the light that comes on if a handset is lifted.

I need to talk to Ivan. He’s the only one I seem to have placed as a contingency in my postprocedure life . . . which means he’s the only one I trust.

I cross to the door, press an ear against it. Nothing but the faint sound of the television.

I unlock the door and quietly push it open. Rolan is not only not dozing as I had hoped but sitting forward on the sofa, talking in low tones on his phone in a language I assume to be Romanian. I’ve hardly made a sound, but he glances up the moment I crack the door open and ends the call.

He’s also shed his jacket. It lies folded on the coffee table, the pistol atop it. His eyes follow my gaze and return languidly to me. “Everything all right?” he says, laying the phone aside.