“God,” Mason says pensively.
“Right,” I say.
There’s a flash of something in Mason’s eyes.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. The lisp thing just reminded me of… Nothing,” he says. Then he shakes his head. “Why would God be in Omaha? He has no connection to Omaha other than me and Cassie, and he never meets with agents in person. There’s no reason for him to be there.”
“Who knows where God goes or what he does?” I ask.
“Well, he doesn’t kill people,” Mason says in a way that makes me feel like he’s trying to convince himself.
“He didn’t used to,” I say. “But you’ve said yourself that there are upsetting changes happening to the program. Like the new lab, like God wanting you to Revive new people—”
“I did say that,” Mason interrupts. “But this is over the top. We’re testing a drug that gives people life—we don’t take it away. There’s no way Nora’s accident was at God’s hands.”
>Love,
Daisy
I hit send and wait awhile for a reply that doesn’t come. Then I fall asleep in a bed that’s probably infested with bedbugs, thinking that it would be all right if only Matt was here next to me.
thirty-eight
“Who are you talking to?” I ask Mason when I walk into the kitchen the next day. He has his cell pressed to his ear and a coffee mug in his left hand. He scowls at me for the interruption and shakes his head.
“If it’s David, please ask about my backpack,” I whisper. Mason is a killer multitasker: he hears and gives me a thumbs-up. I pop bread in the toaster and wait, then, because there’s no jam, I use a butter-like substance that I hope doesn’t kill me. I sit down and start eating, watching Mason and trying to will him to ask about my backpack with my mind. Right when I think he’s forgotten, he comes through.
“Thanks for the lab inventory,” Mason says. “Can I ask one other small thing?” He pauses to listen. “Great, thanks. Daisy needs her school backpack. It’s red, with a black-and-white patch on the front. I think it’s in her room…. Hang on.”
He looks at me.
“Yes, on the right side of my desk, on the floor,” I say.
Mason repeats the directions and then agrees to hang on while David goes to look for it. “No, the right side.” He pauses again. “Yes, do that,” he says.
I take another bite of toast, waiting for confirmation that the bag is on the way. Instead, Mason looks at me while he speaks to David.
“I can’t believe it,” he says. “Nothing else is missing in the whole house but a teenager’s backpack? Guess that rules out involvement from the program.”
Except that it doesn’t, I think to myself as my stomach sinks. I put down my toast, no longer hungry.
I know it was about Case 22.
And that has everything to do with the program.
In fact, it has everything to do with God himself.
When Mason hangs up, I catch him before he rushes out of the room.
“I need to talk to you,” I say seriously. It gets his attention. “And Cassie, too.”
“Okay,” Mason says, a concerned look on his face. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I say. “Let’s get Cassie, and I’ll tell you what I mean.”
When my guardians are settled at the table across from me, I begin my prepared statement.