She pushed up and let him in, and he wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him and kicked the door shut.
He looked up through tear-filled eyes. “I want to go home.”
“We can’t.”
“You can adopt me—”
“It’s not that.” Adeline dropped her voice and moved away from the door. “We have to stay here.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to get Dad back.”
“What? How? I thought that was impossible.”
“It is. Today. But maybe not someday.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Daniele knows more about what’s going on than she’s saying.”
“You think…”
“I think she’s a big part of whatever is going on.”
“Okay, fine, but why can’t you figure it out from our house?”
“We need to stay here so I can watch her and find out what she knows.”
Ryan closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids. “Can you at least adopt me? I don’t want her to be my only parent.”
“She is not your parent. And never will be.”
“So you will?”
“I don’t think the court would approve it.”
“Why? You’re old enough, aren’t you?”
“Technically, yes. But let’s face it: I was just accused of murder. Until our dad confessed to that murder. A court is not going to love that home setting. Plus, Dad wrote a letter endorsing Daniele’s adoption application.”
Ryan shook his head and stared out the window. A hopeless, blank expression settled over his face. His eyes were almost glassy, as if the fight had just gone out of him.
A strange thing happened to Adeline then. In her younger brother, she saw a mirror of the despair she felt. There was no one to pull her out of the abyss. But she could help Ryan. And that filled her with purpose.
“Look at me.”
Ryan cut his eyes to her.
“One day—I don’t know when—it could be a month from now. Or a year. Or more. But one day, I’m going to come to you and say, ‘It’s over and we’re going home and Dad is waiting there for us.’”
Ryan blinked and inhaled a deep breath.
Adeline stared at him. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know exactly how it’s going to work out. But I know it will. I also know that it’s going to be tough for a while. We’ll face it together. Me and you. Because we’re the only ones we can trust. We’re all we have left, Ryan.”
*
Adeline spent the afternoon answering emails and messages from friends. There was an outpouring from people who had seen the media coverage of her father’s sentence—and still believed he was innocent.
She found some comfort in that. People who truly knew you didn’t believe what they read online—or saw in the news.
*
Dinner was a somber affair. As soon as Ryan’s plate was clean, he asked to be excused, and Daniele said, “Yes, but homework first, then a max of two hours of video games.”
The eleven-year-old boy nodded and trudged upstairs.
Adeline set her fork down. “I think he should be allowed to play video games as long as he wants. He just lost his father. He needs distraction.”
“He needs a firm hand in his life.”
“You’re a parenting expert now?”
Daniele ignored the taunt. “His two-hour deadline isn’t the one that should concern you.”
“Which deadline should concern me?”
“Two years.”
“He told you.”
“He did. Your father was adamant that you spend no more than two years of your life on getting him back. He didn’t want this tragedy to consume you too.”
“I’m finished. Can I be excused?”
“We’re not finished.”
“What do you want from me?”
Daniele leaned forward. “I want the same thing you do.”
“Which is?”
“I told you before. We’re going to get him back. To do that, you’re going to have to start cooperating with me. You’re going to have to trust me.”
Adeline clenched her jaw. “That night Nora was murdered, at the lab, you wanted to continue building Absolom Two, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“So did Elliott.”
“That’s right.”
“And Dad and Nora opposed it. Now they’re both gone. One dead. One… may have already died two hundred million years ago, and there’s nothing we can do.”