Gray dropped his hands. Two people had just stepped out of the bedroom. Annabelle’s parents? The man looked like a farmer, with a flannel shirt and a craggy face that had seen a lot of sun. The woman looked like she was sucking on a pickle.

Gray stepped away from Annabelle, offering the older man his hand. “Gray Delacroix,” he said. “Annabelle and I have . . .” How to say it? Fallen madly and gloriously in love before it all imploded? Sailed to Boston, where they conquered the publishing world?

“I know who you are,” her father said. A man of few words, apparently.

Gray turned his attention to the mother and nodded. She nodded back. This was awkward. He glanced at the luggage stacked in the middle of the room.

“Where’s Elaine?”

“Married and gone,” Annabelle said. “There’s no more reason for me to stay in Washington.”

“Yes, there is. I need your help.”

“How much will you pay her?”

“Mother!” Annabelle burst out, but the older woman stepped farther into the room, looking gaunt, hard, and tough.

“We have three tickets back to Kansas on this evening’s train,” the older woman said. “They weren’t cheap, and if they get canceled, it doesn’t come free.”

Now he knew where Annabelle got her thrifty good sense, although the source of her smile remained a mystery. Both parents looked at him with poker faces.

“I shall naturally cover the costs of any additional expense. I’ll pay for Annabelle’s time as well.”

“What do you need?” Curiosity mingled with a nascent sense of adventure lurked in Annabelle’s hesitant smile.

“I’m ready to cooperate with the government,” he said, never believing he would utter those words, but it was time. “I’m ready to recommend that anyone who sells processed food in this country be required to list the ingredients on the label. If Magruder had been doing that all along, maybe those people in Philadelphia wouldn’t have died.”

“And how can I help with that?” she asked.

He breathed a little easier as she gestured him toward the table. When she tried to take the seat next to him, her mother yanked her back and took it instead. Annabelle and her father sat on the bench opposite him, and he began outlining the plan.

On their way to meet with Caroline, Gray warned that his sister was “still pretty bitter” about what happened to Luke, but Annabelle was too busy gaping at the White House looming before her to be worried about a protective sibling. They followed a brick path to the side entrance reserved for people who had official business in the residence. These columns were so huge! They didn’t look this big from a distance, but up close she had to crane her neck to see all the way up.

Gray jerked her elbow. “Careful. You were about to walk into the planter.”