Mom gave me a big hug when I opened the door and checked me over. Good thing I’d cleaned up all the blood and changed my clothes, or she would have really freaked. But before I got a chance to explain anything, the doorbell rang.
Mom looked at her watch. “Who could that be?” I had an idea, but I kept silent.
We both headed downstairs, and as we passed the kitchen, I noticed Logan sitting at the table and eating a bowl of cereal, as if this were the most ordinary Tuesday morning in the world. “Morning,” he said, his mouth half-full. I stared at him, boggled at the difference between my kid brother now and whatever he was last night. “Hey,” I said, more out of habit than anything else, and I followed Mom to the door.
The man standing there looked strangely out of place in this sleepy Idaho town. I hadn’t seen a man in such a finely cut suit since Dad took me to one of his movie premieres. He was small and slight, probably in his late 40s, but with a dramatic shock of prematurely snow-white hair. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue, and he carried a cane with an ornate silver handle.
“Good morning,” he said, holding out one hand. “Montague Verano. I’m a professor of history at the university. My apologies for disturbing you at this hour on a fine summer morning, but I’ve come to search your house.”
For a moment, Mom just stared at him in blank surprise. Meanwhile, gears clicked in my brain. Montague Verano—Monty. And sure enough, I realized that Raph was standing a few feet behind him, his hands thrust awkwardly into his pockets.
“I’m sorry?” Mom tried at last, taking his hand as almost an afterthought. But Verano was regarding her just as closely, and instead of shaking her hand, he pulled it toward his body.
“You seem quite familiar to me,” he said, running his eyes over her face. “Have we met before?”
“Um,” she said, caught off guard. “No, we don’t—that is, I—I get that a lot.”
Verano dropped her hand and made a movement toward her, crowding her against the doorjamb. “Yes,” he said with a nod. “You have an old soul?”
“No,” said Mom. “I mean, yes, but—no—I was in movies. You’ve probably seen them.”
“I don’t watch movies,” said Verano. “Which ones?”
“Some Sacred Summer? Dayton Tuscaloosa? High School High?”
Verano raised an eyebrow. “Is that the one with the dead skunk in the bathroom?” Mom nodded. “I may have seen it on a plane.”