CHAPTER 27
TO TELL OR not to tell, that was the question.
Although if I were going to channel Shakespeare, something the governess in Vladivostok insisted on beating into us just because she’d been to England once, I’d be Lady Macbeth. Stained with the blood of others and unable to wash it off no matter how hard I tried.
Emmy and Carmen lay back in the reclining seats and slept, Emmy with a wrist handcuffed to the seat just in case, while I fidgeted and stared out of the window with worries about both Sam and Tabby weighing heavy on my mind.
And by the time we landed at the airport outside Mérida, just as dawn was breaking, I’d come to a decision.
“I’ve got to call Sam,” I said to Emmy as the plane taxied to the hangar.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No, but if I keep hiding things
