almost never mean you won the lottery. When Jack’s telepresence materialized at the foot of my bed, his expression was grim. He skipped right over the part about how sorry he was to wake me up and said, “There’s been another hit.” “Ferrymen?” I asked, pushing myself into a sitting position. “Yeah.” “When?” “Late yesterday.” I scooped a hand through my hair and struggled to catch up. “How come I didn’t see anything on the news?” “We clamped a lid on it. I had to call in some markers and make a few threats, but the networks agreed to hold off on the story for twenty-four hours.” “Ohh-kay.” I stretched the word into two wary syllables, because I was finally awake enough to catch the drift. Eagan wasn’t calling at this ungodly hour to deliver a courtesy brief to his favorite reporter. There was more. Then my brother Jim virtualized next to Eagan, and the most likely definition of more cannonballed into me. My lungs seized. I grabbed the fistful of gray jersey directly over my heart and hung on. “Dad! Oh, my God, it was Dad, wasn’t it?”
