Page 107 of Whispers in the Dark
She grabbed her coat. “I’m asking you to take me home, Graham.”
He didn’t move. “You’re hoping he’ll come to you.” It sounded like an accusation, but one laced with worry, not anger.
Charlotte met his eyes. “I have to hope that. It may be Alex’s only chance.”
Graham stepped in front of her. “Char, he’s not a scared boy looking for comfort. He was engineered for silence and for violence. If he shows up, it won’t be to cry on your shoulder.”
“I don’t think he was made to be bad. I think he was made to care about his father’s legacy. He won’t hurt me,” she said, softer now. “He’ll see me. Need me.”
“You don’t know that,” Graham said, desperate now. “If you’re wrong, if he’s too far gone, he could make you disappear, and we’d never find you.”
Charlotte’s voice cracked, but her eyes were clear. “I know the risk. Alex deserves this chance.”
“Please,” Graham whispered. “Please reconsider. Don’t do this because you feel guilty.”
“Guilty? Damn it, I love Alex. I can’t lose someone else I love. I lost Chuck. I lost you. I almost lost each one of my girls. I will not lose Alex.”
“Oh, honey. You didn’t lose me. I will always love you.” Graham sighed.
“Then you understand, I have to try,” she said. “Elias is lost. And if I’m the only light left in the dark for him, then I have to try.”
Graham stared at her for a long moment, jaw clenched, fighting the instinct to protect her from someone who didn’t play by the rules of protection. Finally, he stepped aside. “I’m driving you. But I’m not walking away.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And I’ll bring Bailey with me.”
The car ride was silent. No music. No words. Just the town’s lights sliding past them in a blur.
When he pulled up to her house, she reached for the door handle. He grabbed her wrist gently. “Charlotte, if he does come to you, don’t try to save him alone. Call me. Please.”
She nodded. “I will.” She stepped out, Bailey on her heels.
But she knew she wouldn’t. Not until she knew if Elias was capable of hearing her voice—or if he was gone.
The highway stretchedout before them, washed in that dusty gold of early morning, but Brad was looking only at the road. His jaw was set, his grip on the wheel tight, and his silence had weight.
Ethan sat beside him, flipping through the digital copies of the visitor logs they'd forced out of Warden Shepler. His voice was low. “They hid Elias right under everyone’s noses. He lived with his mother, at the prison, and at the black site.”
Brad’s phone buzzed. HPB Supervisor Dana Krill’s name popped up on the dashboard screen. He answered immediately, putting it on speaker. “Krill. Talk to me.”
“We found it,” she said. “Alex Marcel’s car. Municipal garage in District Four, near the riverfront. Nothing to draw attention to it. Shots into the concrete pillars. Gunshot residue on them.”
Brad’s heart dropped. “Ballistics?”
“Nothing. Brass policed. We found Alex’s thumbprint and two fingers on a sign on the pillar.”
Ethan swore under his breath. “He marked his presence. He knew they had him.”
Brad’s voice sharpened. “Lock it down. I’m sending a team now.” He hung up and immediately dialed Noah.
Noah picked up fast. “Tell me you’ve got something.”
“Alex’s car,” Brad said. “Municipal garage by the riverfront in Pierre. Bullet holes. No brass. Alex’s thumbprint plus two fingers.”
Noah was already typing, pulling up the city’s surveillance network. “That’s close to the last ping of his phone.”
Brad’s voice went dark. “Who the hell was the contact?”
Noah stopped typing. “I think I have a clue.”
