I sighed. I’d never get away from him.

“Long weekend?”

I shot him a look. “Not funny, Snark.”

He laughed, but there was no smile or grin on his face. His entire face remained stone-like.

I wasn’t joking when I called him Snark. That was his last name. He had introduced himself to me three years ago as Agent Snark. I’d asked one time if it was a nickname.

He’d looked at me, deadpan, and responded, “Why would I joke about my name?”

That was the last of that conversation, and he’d been Snark ever since.

He took off his reading glasses now and inspected my face, taking his time with his perusal. He finally said, “You look different.”

“You told me to look different.”

“You lost weight?”

“I gained twenty pounds.”

I was inspecting him, too, but he looked the same—graying brown hair and eyes that still looked dead. I knew they were blue, but the flat look he had in them outweighed any color they might’ve had. He just had dead eyes to me. His skin was wrinkled, showing signs of aging. He kept himself trim, like he had back then, but I saw the wedding ring was gone from his hand. I bit the inside of my lip. There was no way I could ask him what had happened, if he’d divorced or if he was a widow. Snark did not share information—ever.

He asked now, “You’re healthy?”

“I didn’t go to the gym before. I do now.”

“Good. That’s a new habit then.”

“I also drink coffee now.” I used to drink tea before.

“That’s good, too.” He asked, “Boyfriend?”

“How’s that your business?”

He didn’t answer me. I should’ve known he wouldn’t, so I reached for a napkin and started to shred it piece by piece, but he took it from me. He slid it to the side, and I remembered—new habits. That was an old one.

I shook my head. “No boyfriend.”

“Not even that Jake guy?”

“How did you…” He was FBI. “Have you been watching me the whole time?”

“Since he was released, yes.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Tell me about this Jake guy. What’s he like?”

“Why?”

“Because he wants to see you.”

That halted everything. I had guessed, but hearing it made the floor open up beneath me. “Are you serious?”

“As a bullet to my forehead.” His eyes narrowed, still studying me. “Now, tell me about this Jake guy.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s new. Your other friends are not. Erica. That kid nicknamed Wanker, and by the way, I’d like to know how he got that nickname.”

“For my file?”

“No.” He grinned. “For my own enjoyment, but that’s not important right now. Start reporting. Get on with it.”

“No.” My friends weren’t new. “I moved in with Erica this year. I was in the dorms my first two years, and my roommates were assigned. Jake’s not new either, and I’m not spending time with him anymore.”

“You spoke to him yesterday and again last evening.”

“Wha—” My head was swimming. “Jake hung out with us last night. That’s it, and it won’t be a recurring thing. I dated him briefly in December. It ended when he decided to go back to his previous girlfriend. I don’t understand why any of this is important. Am I in danger? Does Kian want revenge on me or…” Nothing was making sense. “What is going on?”

“The judge was dirty.”

“What?”

“The judge was dirty. That’s why your boy was released. His lawyers broke the case, but as they know, that means their client can be retried.”

“But double jeopardy? Isn’t that what it is?”

“Not if there wasn’t a fair trial. And a dirty judge—that’s not a fair trial. The District Attorney wants to put him back in. They want him to serve the rest of his eight years, and we think Kian’s team is going to use anything they can to throw that possibility out the window.”

“But—”

“You.”

“Me?” What did that mean? What was he talking about? “Me what?”

“If and when Kian is taken back to trial, we think his legal team is going to go after you.”

My mouth went dry. I sat still in that booth, feeling my heart slow. I was being led down a path, and I didn’t like where he was taking me. “What are you saying, Snark?” My voice had grown hoarse.

“They’re going to blame everything on you.”

One second.

Two.

There is no way.

Three.

I couldn’t think.

Four.

Did he really say that?

And five—

I jerked forward. “How?”

He looked around and hushed me. “Settle down. You need the least amount of attention as possible right now.” He stopped talking and leaned even closer. “Good. You have colored contacts?”

“What?” My mind was racing. “Yes. Why?”

“Does your school know your real eye color?”

“No. I used the fake birth certificate you gave me. I have brown eyes on there.”

“Good. Good.” He nodded in approval. “You’re doing all the right things. What are your eating habits?”

“My eating habits?”

“They can track you like that. You have to be a completely new person.”

“Who’s tracking me?”

“Who do you think?” His eyes narrowed.

A waitress came at that moment with food and coffee. Two glasses of water were poured next, and she waited a second to ask, “Anything else?”

Snark looked around, poking at his toast. “Jelly?”

She gestured to the window. A whole tray of jelly and jam was there, pushed up against the window frame beside us.

“Ah, gotcha.” Snark grinned at her. “Thank you. I think we’re good.”

She glanced to me, but he said for me, “She’s not a breakfast eater. She’s good to go.”

I glared at him as she left. “I am too a breakfast eater.”

His eyebrow went up as he reached for the creamer for his coffee. “That’s new, too?”