CHAPTER ELEVEN.

I stared at the directory listing as the guard approached. Did Helena know Blake's grandfather? It had to be more than a coincidence. Blake must not have been aware of the connection; otherwise, wouldn't he have said his grandfather knew "my" grandmother?

"Can I help you, miss?" the guard asked.

From the tone of his voice, it was clear he was one step away from kicking me out. I scanned the rest of the directory. No other name rang a bell.

"I'm speaking to you." His voice was last-straw stern. "Minor."

He'd used the dreaded M-card that was ten seconds from the final M-card: marshals. I turned to him.

"I'm going up to the sixteenth floor. To Senator Harrison's office."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I'm just going to speak with his assistant."

Maybe it was the defiance in my voice, or maybe it was Prime Destination's drop-dead makeover magic, but he nodded. Then he pointed to the electronic logbook built into the counter. "Sign there. And print."

I signed and pressed my thumb next to it. The elevator dinged open and I rode it up to the sixteenth floor. I hoped to learn what the relationship was between my renter and Blake's grandfather. Something wasn't right here.

When I got out, I was greeted by a set of double doors labeled with laser-cut metal letters: DISTRICT OFFICE, SENATOR HARRISON.

Inside, an Ender male receptionist looked up with a smile on his lips and condescension in his eyes.

"Is Senator Harrison in?"

"Sorry, he's at a fund-raiser. Anything I can help you with?"

I glanced around. There was a hallway that led to several offices. Harrison's was probably at the end.

"When will he be back in the office?"

"He sees constituents only by appointment." He looked me over. "You're a bit young to vote, aren't you?"

He grinned as if his joke were funny. They could do all kinds of medical improvements on Enders, but they couldn't fix their lame sense of humor.

"Maybe I'm older than you think," I said.

His grin faded to puzzlement. But he recovered. "Here's what you can do." He handed me a card. "That's his website. You can contact him through that."

I took the card, knowing no one but a bot would ever read my z-mail. "Actually, I should have explained. I'm doing a story for my private tutor and I was hoping to get a quote from the senator. Could I get a short appointment? I only need a few minutes."

He softened. "The senator is a pretty busy man," he said. "He's up for re-election, you know."

A severe Ender woman stormed out of the first office and stood behind him.

"It's you." She glared at me. "Didn't I tell you never to come back here again?"

"Me?" I said. "I've never been here before."

"I didn't realize ...," the man said to her, palms up.

"You were out sick that day," she said to him. She kept her eyes on me but spoke to him. "Call security. This time we're holding her for the marshals."

He picked up the phone.

This wasn't the first time Helena had been to this building. My body had been here, with Helena inside. "When was I here?"

"Don't insult my intelligence." The Ender marched toward me as I backed away.

I backed into the office door. I turned, opened it, and ran down the hall. I waved my hand over the elevator pad but the elevator was on another floor. I turned to the stairway door, pushed it open and ran down the stairs. Cobwebs got tangled in my face, my hair, my mouth. I cursed the Enders who wouldn't use stairs. I wondered if I could outrun the security guard in the lobby. I pictured him waiting for me with autocuffs.

When I got to the first floor, I stopped to catch my breath. Then I peeked out the door. The guard was facing the elevator, waiting for me to come out. I made a dash for the main doors. By the time he turned around, it was too late for him to catch up; his old legs were no match for mine. I was halfway down the block before he even made it to the door.

"Helena, what have you done with my life?"

But if we had a connection, she wasn't answering.

I sat at the computer in Helena's bedroom suite, frantically searching the Pages for any information on Senator Harrison. This was my life we were talking about. What had Helena said to the senator? Since she'd said it in my body, it must have been just days ago. It would help to know as much as I could, in case the senator's people had called the marshals.

I worked as fast as possible. As a senator, Harrison was involved in a lot of programs involving Starters, but his pet project seemed to be something called the Youth League. Could that have anything to do with Helena's granddaughter? Had Helena tried to enlist his help regarding Emma's disappearance?

Maybe he had refused to get involved. Helena could have gone to the senator for help, maybe looking to stop the body bank, and been rejected. And then maybe she'd ended up blaming him for her granddaughter's death.

Enough to kill him?

I was doubting my theory until I found a key date on the Pages. Harrison was going to be a guest of honor at the Youth League Awards on the nineteenth, the same date as the last entry on Helena's calendar. That was just a couple of nights away. And the time was the same as Helena's notation-8:00 p.m.

I knew the person who could give me the best insight into the senator. I phoned Blake.

When I got to the lookout point on Mulholland Drive, it was dusk. Blake's red sports car was the only one parked in the turnout. I pulled in and parked next to it.

Blake sat on a guardrail fence, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. "Hi."

He gave me a hand and pulled me up to sit beside him. I locked my feet into the lower railing and held on to the top one. The hill below was steep.

"I saw your friend." He looked out at the view. "I gave him the money."

I felt my shoulders relax. "What'd he say?"

"He wanted to know who I was. I told him I was a friend of yours."

"Did you see anyone else?"

He shook his head. "Then he wanted to know why he hadn't met me before."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That we just met a few days ago." He looked down. "Can you believe that? Feels like longer. Anyway, the truth usually works best. You know?"

I swallowed. I searched his face. How much did he know? "What did he say when you asked about everyone?"

"He said everyone was good." He stared at the canyon. "So what's the story on this guy?" he asked.

My throat tightened as if an unfriendlie had his dirty hands around it. "He's just had some bad luck. His parents were killed in the war. His grandparents are dead."

I looked down. The fence felt wobbly. I was dizzy.

Trees and rocks and dirt swirled in my vision as I tilted forward. Blake caught me, one hand on my belly, the other on my back.

"Careful," he said. "You okay?"

My heart pounded. His touch felt caring. Protective.

"I'm not sure."

"We'd better get you down." He held my shoulder as he dismounted, making sure I was steady. Then he took me by the waist and helped me down.

"Want to sit in my car?" he asked.

I nodded. As we walked to his car, a couple of Enders parked and got out to see the view. Blake put his arm lightly around my shoulder to steady me. It felt good.

Once inside Blake's car, I felt better. Safe. The world stopped spinning.

I was torn as to whether I should tell him about his grandfather. How would it help? To explain my theory about how the senator might be in danger, I'd have to explain the body bank, since it wasn't common knowledge. And to explain that, I'd have to admit who I really was. There was a good chance he wouldn't believe me and would just think I was crazy. I'd started with a lie, and now it was just about impossible to untangle it without breaking something.

Blake looked into the distance, toward the city below. "I think you've been hiding something, Callie." He turned to me. "Something important."

I felt my mouth open, but nothing came out.

"That's true, isn't it?" His eyes searched me. "I can see it in your face."

My heart was like a hummingbird trapped in my chest.

"You're sick, aren't you?"

I blinked. "What?"

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me everything. It's obvious you have some condition. Getting dizzy, then blacking out. And then you're like an entirely different person." He was quiet for a moment. "But don't worry, I won't push. Just do me one favor?"

"What's that?"

"Promise me you'll say something the next time you start to feel bad. We can keep you from falling off cliffs and stuff."

He smoothed the hair away from my face; then he ran his hand down the back of my head. I flinched.

"What's wrong?"

"It's okay." I had to keep him away from my chip wound. I took his hand and held it. It was warm and strong and smooth. There he was, so concerned for me, and then happy because I held his hand. And there I was, totally lying to him.

I took a breath. "Blake?"

"What?"

"You said you weren't very close to your grandmother."

"That's right."

"What about your grandfather?"

He squinted and stared into space. "He's all right. He's busy. Away a lot." He looked at me. "But I think he's trying. He never really got over losing my dad, so he tries to be close to me. I don't always make it easy for him."

I looked down at our hands. They were still clasped. Neither of us made a move to release.

"What's it like for him, being a senator? Does he have a lot of enemies?"

"Oh yeah. Hate mail. Hate packages. Anything we didn't order goes right to the marshals. There're some freaky seniors out there with weird ideas."

"I'll bet." I rolled my eyes. Then I turned to him. "I'd really like to meet him."

He pulled his head back. "You would?"

I nodded.

"I don't know if we can find a break in his schedule. He's crammed in a ton of appearances before he heads off to Washington to see the president."

"The president?"

"Yeah, he wants me to go with him," Blake said. "Says it's an opportunity to build character."

I pushed my hair back with my free hand. "Is your grandfather doing something special on the nineteenth?"

Blake cocked his head. "How'd you know? That's his last appearance before he takes off. The Youth League Awards at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the Music Center."

"Downtown L.A." The last date Helena had marked on her calendar. Everything was pointing to the senator being her target. "Let me guess, it starts at eight o'clock?"

"Yeah. I have to be there to present an award. How did you know about it?"

I needed to figure out what I could do to prevent this. "Sorry, I gotta go now."

"Wait." He used the hand holding mine and pulled me to him until our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. "I've been wanting to tell you something."

That close, his eyes made the world disappear. He smelled clean. Like summers before the war. Like sanctuary.