Page 92 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

Reese: Botanical heist. The getaway vehicle failed.

Relief hits so quickly I have to close my eyes. Then, I type back.

Miles: That was also my assessment.

Reese: Did your advanced intelligence training help?

Miles: Four years at the agency, and I’ve finally found a practical application.

Reese: I definitely feel like you’ve been underestimating how valuable your ability to identify office plants in hostage situations could be.

I smile down at the screen. The bridge holds.

It doesn’t mean everything is fine. I don’t know how she feels about the secrecy, the danger, or the fact that her best friend has spent years lying about where he goes. But she is still here. Still making up histories for random vegetation.

At 7:03, she sends another message.

Reese: Also, for the record, I appreciate you not texting me yesterday.

I stare at the words. Before I can decide how to answer, another message appears.

Reese: I hated it.

A laugh escapes me.

Miles: So did I.

Reese: Good. I would’ve been offended if you enjoyed your Reese-free day.

Miles: It lacked structure.

Reese: And joy.

Miles: And random facts.

Reese: Don’t worry. Yesterday was extremely productive on the random-information front.

Miles: How many people did you interrogate?

Reese: Charlie. My mom. Hammy. And Mackenzie.

Mackenzie. She was also a good one to talk to. She saw Lancaster Business Solutions while believing it was real. Then she learned that Jace and the rest of us had been living behind the cover.

Miles: Was it helpful?

Reese: Yes. My mom and I talked for a long time. Hammy, Mackenzie, and Charlie were helpful, too.

By the time I leave for work, we’ve exchanged twenty-three messages. None of them solve anything, but they don’t need to. I’m just glad to have Reese back in my day.

At 10:46, Emerson and I are reviewing the latest Rooke-network analysis, and my phone buzzes beside my elbow.

Reese: A sixth grader just asked whether library books expire.

I type back beneath the conference table.

Miles: What did you tell him?

Reese: Only the dangerous ones.