“How did you get this?” she asks quietly.

“I took it from him when I was here earlier today. I needed it to get answers about my mom. I never thought anything would happen to Isaac or I wouldn’t have taken it.”

“Meri, you aren’t making any sense.”

“If you sit down, I’ll try to explain.” For years, Rose has been my friend. I have trusted her more than any other. I have no choice but to trust her now.

I’m probably breaking every Stewards’ rule in the book, but I don’t care. I tell her about following the paintings and the meaning of the word “verify.” About meeting people who are determined to save paper books and the truth they contain. I don’t tell her about the Lyceum because I don’t want to jeopardize anyone there.

Rose is silent as I pull the books from my bag and hand her the dictionary the Stewards gave me. She looks nervous taking it, as if the book itself might injure her. I wait for her to look up the word “verify.” I see her eyes narrow as she reads the definition. Then I tell her the rest. My suspicion that my mother’s accident wasn’t an accident. The search for answers and finally my decision to find the information that I believe got my mother killed.

“I know how crazy it all sounds, but it’s true.” I hand her the heavy textbook I spent hours reading. “My mom was murdered because she was looking for proof that the government was kidnapping people who knew the truth.”

“Did she find proof?” Rose asks. Her eyes lift from the textbook to me. “Did you?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “I used your brother’s security identification to get into the archives at Liberty Tower.”

“And you think Isaac was taken because they believe he was there.” She runs her fingers along the picture on her brother’s ID. “You’re telling me that my dad knows about all of this? About the words and your mom’s murder and why Isaac is really missing?”

I nod again. “I know it’s hard to believe. I didn’t either at first. If it hadn’t been for my mom, I might have ignored it all. But now I know that if you tell your dad or anyone else about what I’ve told you, the Marshals will come. They’ll take me away, and they’ll come for you, too.” My throat burns.

Silence wraps around the room and stretches so tight I can hardly breathe. I want her to yell at me. To get angry or to ask questions or to say something. But there’s only silence as she turns the ID over and over and over in her hands.

“Rose, I—”

“Stop.” Rose shakes her head as if trying to clear it. “I get that you want me to understand, but . . . I need time to think. Okay?”

I swallow hard and nod. “Do you want me to go?” I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted me far, far away.