“Don’t go,” Ada said. “Cloe. Do not go meet that man alone.”
It was nine-fifteen. Cloe was sitting on Ada’s sofa with Dave asleep down the hall and her phone in both hands and Ada across from her with the specific expression she wore when she had already decided something and was waiting for Cloe to catch up.
“I’m not going,” Cloe said.
“You have the face.”
“I said I’m not going.”
“You have the face you get when you’re about to do something you know is wrong because you’ve convinced yourself it’s practical.” Ada leaned forward. “It is not practical. It is a trap. Marshall wants you alone in a room with no witnesses so he can say whatever he needs to say and you have no record of it.”
Cloe looked at her phone.
Marshall’s message was still on the screen. Something that doesn’t just in
