We all go still as the chirpy anchor goes on to explain, “Several breakers were damaged, which forced those enjoying the warmer weather to leave early. But never fear, city officials tell us the problem has been repaired and those looking forward to a boat ride or taking the high-flying tour of the city from the historic Navy Pier Ferris wheel today will not be disappointed.”

An hour later, a more sober newsman reports details of an unauthorized block party near Wrigley Field as well as a gas leak that shut down the streets on the Magnificent Mile. All locations we were at last night. All places we spread tickets.

People who received the tickets will hear the news report and recognize it as dishonest.

“I think this might actually work,” someone says.

I call Rose on Atlas’s phone and learn the police are looking for me and my father. Her father’s blaming the same gang that took Isaac and is insisting Rose stay with her mother instead of visiting him at work. She promises to let us know if she is able to learn anything more before she hangs up, and I have nothing else to do but watch the reports and wait.

At first my father avoids me, but eventually, I am able to corner him in the library on the top floor of Index’s station. He is holding a history book in trembling hands.

“Your mother hid all of this from me,” he says quietly.

“She did it to protect you. To protect us,” I say. I still wish she had done things differently, but after what I have seen and done, I understand why she believed she had to keep her secrets close.

He shakes his head. “I wish I could believe that. She risked her life . . . she thought this was so important that she died for it. She trusted Atlas’s father. She trusted Dewey and all the others. Me, she left in the dark. She didn’t trust me. She could have told me, and she didn’t. And neither did you.” He flings the book across the room, and I jump as it crashes against the window and thuds to the floor. “How do I live with that, Merriam? How do I live knowing that you both chose these people over me?”

I flinch at the bitter tone he uses for my code name. “I didn’t choose them,” I shout. “I had to find out the truth about Mom, and you . . .” I bite back the angry words I want to hurl. The words about how alone he’s made me feel and how there was no way I could turn to him because of all the promises he’s broken. “I had to know the truth.”

“Well, now you do,” he scoffs. “And I know the truth, too. We no longer have a home. I don’t have a job. Some guy named Stacks told me he went by our house and saw people loading our things into a moving van. So the truth is that we’ve lost everything. And now we have no choice but to leave.”