If I did, I wouldn't tell you. "All I know is Luke planned for us to go into the mountains."

"Would he have changed plans after you disappeared?"

My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I wondered if Hawkins suspected Luke was carrying evidence, too. "No, he was set on the Rockies."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I swear, I don't know where else he could be."

"I'm sick of being blindsided by revelations about who you were with or what you did when you were on your little adventure."

"It wasn't an adventure," I muttered.

"If there's anything else you're hiding from me, you need to come clean now. Do you understand? We're both in danger here."

"I get it." I would not tell Hawkins anything more about Luke or what I suspected he might do. "I gave you the phone. You've got the files that were on it. I don't know what else you want from me."

"All right then." Hawkins went to unfold his cuffs and then stopped himself. "You coming?"

"No, I think I'll hang out here for a while."

I waited until I was sure Hawkins was in another part of the house before I went back to my room. My head was spinning as I changed into jeans. I didn't know how Helen had managed to get into Hawkins' circle, but I was dying to know why she was here.

31.

Ho must have offered Elancio, the stylist, a fortune, because an hour later his Airstream was parked in the subterranean garage alongside Hawkins' Ferrari California.

Unlike the last time I'd been in Elancio's salon, Elancio hadn't bothered to fill the bud vases flanking the mirror, and there were no garment bags spilling out of the blond maple cabinets. Today his job was to fix the damage I'd done to his "creation," and return me to the reincarnation of Let.i.tia Hawkins, mother of the next governor of California.

Sigmund observed from the curved white leather banquette, sipping an espresso, while I sat in the salon chair and Elancio ran his fingers through my hair. "This is criminal," Elancio grumbled. "This color-so trashy, so fake." He went to tape a photo of Let.i.tia Hawkins on the mirror.

"You won't need that," Sigmund said.

Both Elancio and I looked at him.

"Jessop and I agreed that Aveline cannot rea.s.sume the look she had before her ordeal. She has changed, and her look must reflect that: stronger, more dynamic, with a hint of s.e.xy."

"Right. I'm the young lioness that Jessop Hawkins has tamed."

"Exactly," Sigmund answered.

"Very well," Elancio said, tossing Let.i.tia's pic in a drawer. "A young lioness." He crossed his arms and contemplated my reinvention, tapping his chin with one finger.

"Close to her original color, but bolder," Sigmund said. "They told you extensions, correct?"

"Yes. Yes. Return her hair to its original length." Elancio fished inside a cabinet filled with boxes of dye. "And those brows-pah!"

Ho arrived while Elancio was painting the color onto my hair. "We've got her booked with Evan Steele, the morning show tomorrow, just as you asked."

"Steele will hit her hard, but then it will be over and done." Sigmund turned to me. "Tomorrow you must convey strength and femininity. You were confused, and misled by people you trusted, terrified by the violence you were exposed to, and now you've returned to Jessop's side, where you are safe and happy."

Ho was taking it all in.

"I'll need to review her wardrobe before I leave. Adam, see if you can get a duplicate of the Love bracelet that Aveline wore on the cover of People. And once Elancio is done here, we should review talking points."

Ho nodded and left.

Elancio applied the last of the dye, and peeled off his gloves. Then Sigmund got up and slipped him a folded hundred. "Why don't you take a cigarette break?"

Elancio raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, and dug out his pack. Sigmund waited for him to leave, then raised a finger telling me to be quiet. I watched quietly as he reached under the makeup counter and the red light in the monitor behind me went black.

"Girl, I thought that man would never leave."

"Oh my G.o.d, Helen, I can't believe you're here."

"I almost can't believe it myself. Imagine me inside the cave of the Demon King," she said, waving her hand at the garage full of luxury cars.

"Senator Fletcher didn't really send you, did he?"

"Technically, no. Although he often employs the services of the other Sigmund Rath. However, I doubt either Jessop Hawkins or Adam Ho have the nerve to call Fletcher's Washington office to verify my ident.i.ty in the midst of le grand scandale politique. I trust you will keep my secret?"

"Of course I will, but if anyone figures out who you are-"

"You're sweet to worry, but I've spent most of my life hiding my true ident.i.ty. And besides, I'm not the one who's in danger right now."

I ducked my eyes. I didn't deserve her help. "I'm fine, Helen."

"I'm talking about Luke."

My cheeks turned scarlet. "Yeah, of course."

"Not that your situation isn't serious, Hummingbird, but there's a nationwide manhunt for him. Maggie left money and forged ident.i.ty doc.u.ments. I can get him out of the country if I can find him."

"Maybe he'd listen to you. I tried to get him to go."

"Do you really believe he's in Colorado?"

"No. I wish I did, but we were on the way to meet two reporters when the Retrievers picked me up, and I don't know if he met them or if they were even real."

"I'm not following."

"This man who hid us-his name is Streicker-I think he set Luke up so he'd stalk Jouvert. I'm terrified Luke might try to a.s.sa.s.sinate him."

"What!"

"He's so angry, Helen. Luke wants revenge for what the feds did to his family."

Helen's eyes widened. "You care about him."

"Yes, I do-and he's not a killer, he's-" The truth of who Luke really was and how I felt was complicated, too complicated to explain now.

"Well, we have got to locate him. If there's anything else you can think of, anyone else he might have turned to outside of Salvation, you need to tell me."

"All right," I promised.

She reached in her suit jacket and pulled out a photo. "Is this what he looks like?"

It looked like Luke, but something about it was off. "Where did you get this? Luke told me there weren't any pictures of him."

"Luke probably never knew Maggie had a baby picture. I found it in her safe, and had it digitally aged. Does it look like him?"

"Almost." It was like looking at a zombie with Luke's features, but without the warmth in his smile or the depth in his eyes. A shiver traced my spine, and I handed the photo back. "I feel better knowing you're trying to find him. Luke knows how to survive in the mountains, but he needs help out in the open."

"Why were you meeting the reporters?" Helen said. "Were they going to interview you about the shootout?"

I filled her in on the evidence Luke and I were carrying, including Sparrow's tape of Jouvert boasting about his secret deal with the Saudis.

"He might as well have strapped explosives to his chest," Helen said.

"I need to tell you something else."

"What now?"

"Jessop Hawkins used the tape of Jouvert to blackmail him."

"Blackmail Jouvert! Hawkins won't stop at anything to win, will he?" She shook her head. "But you can't help what he did once he took it away from you."

"He didn't take it. I gave it to him." Anger flashed in her eyes, and I rushed to explain. "Fletcher threatened to have me arrested. You saw what the feds did to Maggie when she tried to surrender."

Helen fixed her eyes on her polished wingtips. "Well, so you did what you had to do to save yourself."

I swallowed, her disappointment like a spoonful of straight pins going down my throat.

"But who am I to criticize?" she said, taking a breath. "I wasn't in that church. Who knows what I'd do in your place."

We sat in silence for a moment, then Helen looked me in the eyes. "You do realize that if the reporters use information Luke gave them and run that story, Jouvert will think you double-crossed him."

I felt the blood leave my face, and the next thing I knew, Helen was rubbing an ice cube across my wrist. "That's right. Stay with me."

I pulled in a centering breath. "There's no way this will end well, is there?"

"Maybe not, but you've gotten this far. Look at everything you've survived." She dropped the sliver of ice in the sink and flicked her fingers dry.

"Avie, if Luke wanted to kill Jouvert, where would he do it?"

I repeated what I'd heard Streicker tell Luke about midsized cities and outdoor rallies in warm climates. Helen nodded, eyes closed as if she was making mental notes.

"He's got Streicker's van so he could get to any of those cities," I said, "and I think he'd try to take out Jouvert in the next ten days."

"Why so soon?"

I started to explain Streicker's theory that Jouvert was going to sign an agreement with the Saudis for nuclear weapons, when we heard Elancio on the step.

"Later, you're going to tell me everything you know about that." Helen pressed the switch to reactivate the monitor, and resumed her Sigmund persona. "Do your magic," he ordered Elancio, and strode out.

Elancio washed and dried my hair, then started fusing the extensions. I faced myself in the mirror, Helen's voice echoing in my head. "So you did what you had to do to save yourself."

Helen said she didn't blame me, but I couldn't help feeling I hadn't had to betray Sparrow, that I could have done something differently. But what that was, I had no clue.

Elancio returned his round brush and blow-dryer to their spots in the cabinet. "Are you happy with your look?" he said, peering down his nose as if he dared me to say no.

I shrugged and combed my fingers through my side-swept bangs, and tossed the glistening dark brown hair on my shoulders. The color and cut should have made me look like my old self, but I didn't.

I'd lost weight, but that wasn't the reason I looked changed. I had a new look in my eyes: I wasn't innocent any longer and I knew my survival was a long shot.

Sigmund met me outside the Airstream. He smoothed his aubergine silk tie and kept his voice low as we walked back through the garage. "Streicker's disappeared. I asked Ho to contact him so we could a.s.sess how much damage Luke could inflict if he resurfaced, but everything's gone. Phone number, bank account, Web site for LFOD Livestock-every trace has been scrubbed clean. It's like Streicker never existed."

"I'm not surprised. I bet if somebody went to his house, they'd find it stripped."

"Yes, he's probably on a beach in the Maldives luxuriously out of reach of U.S. authorities."

We headed back in the house to go through my closet and prep for tomorrow's interview with Evan Steele. Sigmund unzipped three or four garment bags and appraised the contents. "None of these outfits are suitable," he said. He took out his phone, tapped on the screen, and handed it to me. "What do you think about this dress?"

"Is the room monitored?" read the screen.

"Audio only," I typed back.

"I think this would convey the image we want for you," he said as he typed, "Tomorrow when Steele grills you, you have to blame Maggie."

I shook my head no. "Yeah, the dress looks great."

"She would want you to keep the focus on her and take it off others," he tapped.

I bit my lip so I wouldn't tear up. "Okay."

"I'll call the designer," Sig said. "Have him send over some samples."

"You're the boss."

I realized right then that I needed to give Sigmund the wall hanging. He could keep it safe, and I couldn't. I slid it out of the drawer. "Recognize this?" I typed.

Sigmund ran his fingers over the embroidered branches that connected and crisscrossed the st.i.tch-coded names of one dirty politician to another, linking money, dates, and deals. Yes, he nodded.