This man.
This possibility.
“You think it could be him,” I say.
“We think he’s the closest thing we’ve had to a real direction in a long time,” Barnett says carefully.
He pauses.
“But I need you to understand something too.”
My jaw hardens.
“At this stage… recoveries are rare.”
The words hang.
“Three years changes the landscape. We don’t stop working it. But the odds shift.”
Silence.
Then, quieter:
“I’ve seen what this does to people.”
Another beat.
“She wouldn’t want you frozen in this moment.”
The room sits heavy.
“We’ll call you as soon as we know more,” Barnett says.
I nod.
Outside, the city looks the same as it always does.
People walking. Cars moving. Someone laughing into their phone.
I stand there for a moment, trying to decide whether I want them to find something or not.
Because if they do…
Then it’s real.
All of it.
Hope is back.
And it feels like something I shouldn’t trust.
Chapter 11
Nathan
It’s strange how predictable I’ve become. Every time a lead comes in, the same cycle starts. First, the jolt. Then the anger. Then the imagining.
Standing behind that glass, staring at five men who could’ve been nothing — or everything — I felt it again.
