I said to Peter, though I was so stunned that the words felt like lumps on my tongue. Tears welled behind my eyes, and my mouth collapsed into a frown. “I had to pretend,” he said. “I had to make sure you were fully on board.” “‘On board’ is a cliché,” I murmured. He smiled. “So are dates at the public library.” I didn’t laugh, and twisted away. “Hear me out, Iris.” I turned from him. My teeth were chattering and my toes felt glued together. “You can walk away right now. I won’t stop you. Or you can take just a few steps forward—with me.” “You lied to me!” I whirled around. “You made up that whole story about Dantes and Rex. I read the truth in the newspapers.” “Now, just a second,” he said. “We did no such thing.” “But—” “Iris, newspapers get things wrong—and they lie. You saw yourself how Elliott Morgan controlled the information about Justin’s death, how Pasternak kept the burning effigies out of the local press. If I’m wrong about all this, it’s not on purpose, and I will swear to you on Edward Murrow’s grave if you want me to.”
