“You said yesterday that he didn’t do anything,” Tobias interrupted, and Ghost’s eyebrows narrowed for a second. “You were talking to yourself, I think, but forgetting I exist doesn’t mean I actually cease to, you know.”
“Fine, we weren’t fucking,” Ghost said carelessly.
“So why didn’t you email the video to Mama?”
“There was no point. I was on my way out the door anyway. I planned to give it to her in person.”
“You made the USB, tried to leave, and Spratt stopped you. And...you threw the USB in the laundry room to conceal it?”
“Ding, ding, ding.” Ghost reached out and bopped Tobias on the nose with one finger. “You’re very clever these days, Tobias.”
Tobias rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but I still don’t buy it. Maybe Spratt stopped you from leaving, but that’s not why you didn’t email it. If you’d sent it to her then, you wouldn’t have needed the USB at all. It would’ve been faster if you had. Safer, too, because it meant you couldn’t be caught with it by Spratt.”
“Oh, God,” Ghost groaned. “This is the heart of gold part, isn’t it? I didn’t send it to Mama because deep inside I don’t want to contribute to an unjust world, right? Because deep down, you know I just want to be good. Your psychology degree’s arriving in the mail any day now, isn’t it?”
Tobias shifted tacks instantly. He did believe that Ghost’s motivation for hesitating had been worry about what Mama would do, but saying so would only get him laughed at. “You know Sullivan’s right, don’t you? Sooner or later he’s going to go through your laptop, and when he sees that program, he’s going to assume the murder is what you’ve recorded. As long as that USB exists and you’re the only one with access to it, Spratt’s going to have strong motivation to kill you.”
Ghost said nothing.
Tobias said, “You have to blow it wide open. That’s the only way you’ll ever be safe.”
“Turning him in won’t save me from Mama.”
“I know.” Tobias was reasonably sure they’d convinced Ghost to at least stick around long enough to meet Lisbeth’s good cop. But Mama was something else. Tobias had to try to convince Ghost to do the right thing there, as well. He doubted it would work, but he had to try. “About Mama...”
“I’m not testifying against her,” Ghost said flatly. “There’s no fucking way in hell.”
“You’re going to let her get away with trying to blackmail a cop—”
“Damn straight. She’s welcome to him. She can own the entire government for all I care.”
His language, Tobias reminded himself, even if he was ninety-nine percent sure that Ghost was lying about being unbothered. Tobias wasn’t going to get anywhere with moral arguments about self-sacrifice. Survival. That was the only way.
“So imagine this. It’s four years from now. You’ve given up hustling. You’re taking an online class in something. Maybe you’re working in a diner like Church. And you’re actually thinking about putting down roots. Staying still. But you can’t, because you know it’s only a matter of time before she tracks you down.”
“Putting down roots? Moi? Don’t let’s be silly, dear.”
“Okay, it’s been three months in the same town and you’re back at it—looking at a map, figuring out which new city is big enough that you can get lost, but not so big that the Krayevs will have interested partners nearby. And it’s going to keep being like that, you know. A series of bland, pointless jobs and—and dicks to suck for extra cash, and long, boring bus rides before the whole thing starts all over again. And the whole time, you’re wondering if this is the diner or street corner or blank, empty room where Kellen or one of the Krayevs finally catches up with you.”
Tobias took a breath, then said something that was very much Ghost’s language, and absolutely nothing of his own. “Aren’t you tired of waiting for someone to come through your door in the night?”
Ghost might’ve appeared fragile and childlike in his too-large clothes, but in that moment, as his gaze snapped to Tobias’s, he looked nothing short of feral—every spare mannerism and tic of guilelessness vanished, every soft curve of cheek, every tender line of lip, all of it was gone in a finger snap. Tobias swallowed hard, wondering if Ghost was about to hurt him, if it would be like that night in Woodbury when that boy had tried to touch Ghost under the dinner table and Ghost had lost it, everything human about him disappearing, all sense of sanity evaporating until only pure, vicious destruction was left.
Tobias braced himself, but Ghost didn’t move. He didn’t move or speak for long minutes, only sat there staring at Tobias, little flashes of rage and emptiness crossing his features for brief seconds before flickering out again.
And finally, ages later, Ghost cleared his throat. “What do you want?”
“I want you to talk to this ex-cop. I want you to let someone help you. I want you to do the scary thing now so you can have peace later. He’s going to be here in—” He checked the clock. “An hour and a half. I want you to still be here.”
“In a city overflowing with dirty cops—a city like any other, I suppose, but the point stands—you want me to put my life in the hands of a cop?”
“Yes.”
They watched each other for another long beat, a silence that was only broken by Sullivan coming downstairs, damp and pink-cheeked from his shower. He passed behind the couch, close enough that Tobias caught a whiff of the scent of his soap, and gave Tobias a questioning glance over Ghost’s shoulder.
Tobias put his hand up to the base of his throat, a reminder, he hoped of the bond between them. Trust me, he meant. I’m yours, he meant. Sullivan’s expression softened, and then Ghost let out a tiny noise.
Tobias refocused on him, saw Ghost staring not at his face
