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“I believe he left those books because he intended to get the information to you,” Andrei says. “We have a reason to follow what he found, and tomorrow Rick will have to answer questions.”

I nod, though my thoughts have already run ahead to Rick refusing the meeting, to Connor alone wherever he is, and to the last two words he left me.

“I keep moving because when I stop, I start wondering how long he’s been waiting for somebody to find him.”

Andrei touches my arm. “You can be frightened for him. You don’t have to carry every part of this yourself.”

“I lost someone too,” Andrei says. “Misha. He was my closest friend.”

I look up at him. “Did you let anyone help you after he died?”

His hand falls away. For a moment, I think he will tell me I’ve crossed a line. The apartment is quiet except for Murphy moving on the sofa.

“Misha was the closest thing I had to a brother,” Andrei says. “We met at school after my family moved here. I didn’t have many friends who understood my parents, our language, or why I missed a place I’d been eager to leave. He did.”

I wait while he looks toward the dark window.

“We entered a dangerous life together when we were young,” he continues. “I told him we’d find a way out. He died before we did.”

“You were there?”

“No.” Andrei presses his thumb across the scar on his left hand. “I arrived after.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was my friend for years, Cassie. I knew when he was angry before he spoke. I knew which jokes would make him laugh.” Andrei meets my eyes. “I still think of things I would have told him.”

I recognize that part of grief. Last week I saw a woman walking down Main Street with a dog wearing bright yellow boots, and I reached for my phone to tell my mother. Four years have passed since she died. My hand moved before I remembered.

“Did you leave that life because of him?” I ask.

“I stayed in it after he died.” His voice grows lower. “Years later, I came home to the vineyard. I had learned enough by then to help my father build what he wanted, and I could finally spend my days doing work I understood.”

“You’ve said you survived. You talk as though that’s another thing you have to answer for.”

“Some days it is.”

I want to ask how Misha died and what Andrei did during the years after. His face tells me he has reached the limit of what he will say tonight. He’s given me a memory of his friend, though, and I can see how much it cost him to speak about it.

I go back to the kitchen table and pick up the book Connor wrote in. Andrei follows me. When I reach for the page, he lays his hand over mine. His palm is warm, his fingers calloused against my skin.

“Rick won’t leave my sight once he comes to the vineyard,” he says. “You’ll know what he tells us. I won’t have anyone question him and keep the answers from you.”

“And what happens if you decide he’s responsible?”

“We find Connor.”

“After that?”

His gaze holds mine. “I won’t harm Rick before we find your brother.”

I look at our hands on the book. “You chose those words carefully.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what to do with that answer.”

“You can tell me you don’t accept it.”