“Feels like jumping.”
“Feels like you’re stalling.”
I let that sit, watching her, really watching her now. She is not unraveling, not losing control. Every move she makes is deliberate, every word measured.
That changes things.
“You want something real?” I ask finally.
“Yes.”
“I got inconsistent answers,” I say. “People dodging, acting like they don’t want to be involved. And there’s new security in places that didn’t need it before, restricted access where there wasn’t any.”
“Where?” she asks immediately.
“Coalition maintenance corridors near the border,” I say.
“That lines up,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
“With what?” I ask.
She hesitates, just long enough to confirm she has something she is not sharing.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she says.
I grin.
“Now who’s holding back?”
She ignores that.
“Did you get names?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “But I got reactions.”
“Reactions don’t mean anything.”
“They do when they’re wrong.”
She watches me for a long moment, weighing something.
“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” she says.
“I’m taking it exactly as seriously as it deserves.”
“Someone is missing,” she snaps. “That matters.”
“People go missing,” I reply.
“Not like this.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
I lean in slightly, lowering my voice.
“Or because you want it to be.”
