Page 94 of Code Name: Atticus
I pressed my lips to his, and we wrapped our arms around each other.
“We should let Emma know,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.
“I’ll go get her.”
“I just heard,” she said, coming out of the bedroom when Atticus knocked. “Do you want to head over to the detention center?”
“I do.” I glanced up at Atticus. “We do.”
“I’ll drive. The two of you are a mess,” Emma said, nudging Atticus with her elbow.
“I’mcurious as to how you put all this together in just a few hours,” Emma said as she navigated her way through typical DC traffic.
Atticus explained how Alice and Tex discovered the evidence that had been manufactured to make Luke look guilty and were able to prove its inauthenticity.
“That led to Collins’ confession,” he added as traffic slowed to a crawl.
When we pulled into the federal courthouse parking garage in Alexandria fifteen minutes later, I felt my shoulders tighten. How would Luke react when he saw me? When he saw Atticus?
Once inside the building, Soledad was waiting for us in the hallway.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Your brother is processing out now. Conference room three. It’s taking longer than usual because we need to make sure there’s no possibility of charges being refiled. I want this to end today, permanently.”
“Has anyone told him why he’s being released?”
“He knows the charges are being dropped, based on new evidence, but I’m not sure how much beyond that. I thought you might want to be the one to explain.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Let me check on their progress.”
The next tenminutes crawled by as we waited for her to return. Atticus stood by the window, staring at the parking lot below. I paced the narrow hallway.
“He’s going to be angry,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
“He has every right to be,” Atticus replied. “I failed him when he needed me most.”
“We both did.”
The few feet between us felt like miles. When he took a step in my direction, I did the same until we were back in each other’s arms, where we belonged.
“He’ll understand once we explain,” I whispered.
“I hope so.”
Finally, the door opened and Luke walked out. No handcuffs bound his wrists now. No federal marshals flanked him. But my brother appeared more defeated than I’d ever seen him.
He glanced in our direction, then his focus shifted to the exit sign behind us.
“Luke—”
He held up a hand, his expression carved from granite. “Don’t.”
“Please, just listen?—”
“To what? An explanation of how my own sister thought I’d commit treason? How the man I’ve called brother since we were eighteen believed I’d sell out my country for money?”
