Page 156 of Reeves

I'm wet for you.

"Fuuuuck…" slips out before I can stop it. All I want is to stay with her, but I need to hear what Gabe has.

"The system flags happen automatically, but this one got pushed forward. Someone made sure it moved up the priority list."

"How can you tell?"

"There's a referral buried in the process. Someone called it in. The automated systems don't work that way. They just sit in the queue until someone gets around to reviewing them."

My jaw tightens. "Any idea who made the referral?"

"That's where I need more time. The trail gets murky after that point. But I'm pretty confident someone wanted this investigation to start."

I stand, the ice pack dropping to the floor. The late morninglight streams through the front windows, casting bright stripes across the hardwood.

The line goes quiet for a moment. I can hear Gabe typing in the background.

"I'll call you when I have more."

The phone goes dead.

Charli. You're killing me. I'm so hard for you.

My message delivers but doesn't show "Read." Fuck. I lost her.

Can I see you again tonight? I know it's a lot, but I leave in a few days and I need to see you.

I set it on the windowsill and stare out at the neighborhood. Everything looks normal. Kids riding bikes. A woman walking her dog.

But someone decided to go after Charli. Someone made a deliberate choice to disrupt her life.

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

I want to tell her what Gabe found. That someone made this happen. Maybe she would have an idea of who would do this and why.

But throwing that at her right now would only create more stress. She needs facts, not theories. And I need more information before I can give her anything useful.

I pick up the ice and throw it in the sink and head up for a shower.

THIRTY-SIX

Charli

The Children Again:The ones who started at the edges of the procession are now in the middle of it, learning the second line by moving through it.

I adjustmy position on the carpet, scooting closer to where Mason lies on his back. His limbs sprawl loosely against the soft mat, tiny muscles lacking the tension that should help him lift his head or reach for the colorful rings dangling above him.

"We're going to try for that red ring today, buddy."

I slide my hands under his shoulders, supporting his trunk as I help him roll to his side. His head wobbles, and I steady him with one palm against his back.

"There we go. See the ring?"

Mason's eyes track toward the toy, but his arm remains limp against the mat. I guide his elbow, then his wrist, moving his hand toward the target.

"Reach, reach, reach."

His fingers brush the ring, and it sways. A sound escapes him, something between a coo and a grunt.