Page 35 of Twelve
“The new girl can’t have my room when she gets here,” Laurel repeated emphatically. “I don’t care if it’s not for another three years.”
Technically, my grandmother was the one raising my sister. Technically, our base of operations was not Laurel’s house. Technically, she didn’thavea room here, but when we’d returned from this case, we’d found the bedroom Laurel sometimes stayed in completely decorated with ponies.
I belong here.That was what the expression on Laurel’s tiny face said. Her mouth, in contrast, addressed Dean. “I was just messing with you about the blood.” She paused. “And the screams.”
I glanced at Lia, and she shrugged, which I took to mean that statement wasmostlytrue.
“Come on, short stuff.” Lia tweaked the end of Laurel’s ponytail. “Let’s leave Angsty and the Brood here to their special alone time, and I’ll teach you how to convince your teacher that the dog really did eat your homework.”
Before Lia could actually leave Dean and me to our own devices, her cell phone rang.
“Video call,” she told us. “It’s Sloane.”
It took all of two seconds before Lia had helped herself to a slice of the bed. The moment she did, Laurel took off.
“Hey, Sloane.” Lia answered and angled the phone’s screen so that Dean and I could see.
“The nine millimeter Luger was designed by a German weapons manufacturer in 1902.” Sloane’s greeting was unconventional, if not entirely unexpected. “In 2015, the FBI shifted to using a one-hundred-and-forty-seven grain nine millimeter Gold Dot G2 for ammunition.”
Lia took one for the team and responded to that statement. “Either you’re in the middle of weapons training, or you’ve spent the past forty-eight hours with Celine.”
Special Agent Delacroix had fired a shot in the line of duty. She’d saved Mackenzie’s life—and taken the life of a killer. There was a process that had to be followed in the wake of an event like that. Celine had to be cleared—legally and psychologically—before she could return to the field.
“Celine needs me.” Sloane fiddled with something, though I couldn’t quite make out what she held between her fingers. “No one has ever needed me before.”
“We all need you,” Dean told her. Sloane was our light in the darkness.
“Dean,” Sloane said very seriously, “I hope this is not oversharing, but Celine needs me in avery different way.” Knowing Sloane, I half expected her to share exactly what that very different way entailed—possibly with graphs, almost certainly with precise description of angles and body parts—but she spared us the explicit details and opted instead for another statistic. “Did you know that forty-six percent of Texans meditate at least once a week?”
“You don’t say.” Lia grinned.
Sloane frowned into the camera. “I justdidsay. And, Cassie? I looked into those brothers in Texas, and the thing is, they aren’t.”
“Aren’t brothers?” I asked.
“Aren’t in Texas,” Sloane corrected. “At least, they’re not there anymore. The whole family picked up and moved with no warning. Even weirder? I can’t figure out where they went.”
“And ifyoucan’t figure it out…” Michael plopped down beside Sloane and squeezed into the frame. “There’s a very good chance they’re off the grid.”
“A ninety-seven point four percent chance,” Sloane clarified.
“Exactly,” Michael declared. “Now, on a somewhat unrelated note: adorable onesies for the Sterling-Briggs Wonder Twins, yay or nay?”
He held up what appeared to be a custom-made infant onesie emblazoned with the wordsSPECIAL AGENT BABY.
“I was thinking of putting something inappropriate, but humorous and endearing, on the back,” he clarified.
There were nine and a half weeks left until Michael and Sloane would be home. Nine and a half weeks before I could look at Dean and know he wasn’t leaving the next day.
Three years until Mackenzie would join the program.
Who knew how long to find the brothers.
But Briggs and Sterling’s twins were expected to make their arrival early—and that meant any day.
“I vote yes on the onesies,” I declared.
“All in favor?” Sloane asked formally.
