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was important to make new friends, Mom said. This was supposed to be accomplished at bimonthly troop meetings, which would be held at the home of a girl named Kelly.
    The moment Brianna arrived at Kelly’s house was precisely when she discovered that there were rich people and there were poor people—and the Tildascows were not rich people.
    Their Brownies Troop Leader was Kelly’s mother. She was a sharp, well-spoken woman with a no-nonsense aura, which must have served her well in her day job as a big-shot attorney-turned-government-gunslinger. She would arrive for their meetings with an assistant in tow (always a sharply-dressed young woman), and dismiss her with work orders precisely at 5 p.m. Then she’d immerse herself in the girls’ baking and papier-mâché follies for two solid hours.
    She always made sure to personally engage each of her Brownie mini-monsters during the course of the evening. She’d inquire about whatever little dramas they were facing, and offer uplifting advice in a warm, dignified tone. Soon Brianna felt like she’d found a secret best friend. Most likely, all of the girls felt that way. It was honest mutual respect from an adult they admired, and it positively lit them up.
    At 7 p.m., the assistant would reappear with updates from the office. Kelly’s mom would vanish for a few minutes while the live-in cook ( the live-in cook! ) served s’mores. She’d make an encore at 7:30, offering cookies to the parents arriving for pickup, and leave the girls with sticker books, fun assignments, and hugs with encouraging whispers.
    She was just too damned good to be true. And the girls of Troop 60421 weren’t the only ones who noticed. Kelly’s mom soared up the ranks until she had nowhere to go but Washington. First it was Attorney General. A year ago she’d become the National Security Advisor.
    Brianna knew her as “Mrs. Luft,” but her name was Rebekkah.
    After what happened to seal that little girl in her past, she had tried like hell to shake Rebekkah Luft. Something about the way she offered affection made Tildascow angry. Or maybe scared. Whatever it was, she’d needed everything gone, and that relationship was part of everything. She did enjoy hearing about her former friend’s remarkable ascent, but she kept her eyes averted when she appeared on TV.
    Still, she’d often wondered if a few turns in her career weren’t the result of Rebekkah Luft’s silent machinations. Why hadn’t the incidents in her past kept her out of Quantico? Or the DoD’s Prime Program? Luck, skill, or Luft?
    They’d crossed paths here and there, sometimes in ways that felt arranged. Like the time Luft—then Attorney General—spoke at Tildascow’s graduation from Quantico. She’d never done that before, and never did again.
    Every time they met, Luft would put a hand on her shoulder, look deep into her eyes, and ask, “How are you?”
    She’d never realized how much that question could hurt. Not until it was asked by someone who knew the answer.
    The phone rang. She braced for impact.
    “Hello?” Luft’s sleepy voice made Tildascow feel like she was going to get in trouble.
    “Mrs. Luft? It’s…“ She hesitated too long, feeling stupid, and finally blurted, “Tildascow.”
    “Brianna? Brianna, how are you?”
    “Listen,” she snapped, spiking the lump in her throat. “Um… Mrs. Luft, I… I’ve got… Something happened that I think I need to bring to your attention.”
    “Okay, but don’t you dare call me Mrs. Luft again.”

PART TWO

    One
    Akron, Ohio
    December 31
    12:58 a.m.
    “I swear to God, I’m gonna wolf out!”
    That wasn’t the most prudent thing Lon had ever said to a roomful of people, but he simply refused to tolerate mockery by inferior intellects.
    He’d been dominating the Magic: The Gathering tournament—as usual. And this was the big one, the regional qualifier for the Pro Tour. He was just three wins away from a free trip to Las Vegas, and his