Reece moved across the slippery wet snow, closer to the building.
Evanis a big boy, said the voice. He can take care of himself. He tells you that all the time.
Not this time. He was outnumbered and had walked right into a trap.
He doesn’t feel fear.
No.
But he could feel pain.
Reece skidded to a stop in the mud at the tree line’s edge. Up ahead in the EI parking lot were three black SUVs and one unmarked van. The doors of the van were open, and two burly soldiers were stuffing a limp body into the back.
“Evan,” Reece said, the name coming out in an exhaled rush, like he’d been gut-punched.
But before he could take even one more step, the soldiers had jumped into the van, slamming the doors.
And then the vehicles were on the move, taking Grayson with them.
The driveway was empty when Jamey returned to her house, the patchy layer of snow undisturbed by tire tracks. She hadjust pulled out her phone to call Gretel when she heard a car coming down her street. A moment later, the white BMW coupe was pulling in next to her.
Relief washed through Jamey as she got out of Liam’s Corolla. Gretel was getting out of her car as well. “Long time at the lawyer’s?” Jamey asked as she made her way toward Gretel.
“Well,” Gretel said cagily, “I had to make another stop too.”
Wet snowflakes fell on Jamey’s hair as she peered inside the car and saw several accordion folders stacked on the passenger seat. “What’s all this?”
“Research.” Gretel added ruefully, “You probably didn’t know what you were getting into when you agreed to help an obsessive neurodivergent blogger.”
Jamey snorted. “I said I’d help. I meant it. Are you hungry—”
“I picked up dinner too.” Gretel was folding the driver’s seat forward and reaching into the back seat, lifting a stack of Styrofoam containers in a plastic bag that smelled amazing. “You like tikka masala?”
Inside the house, Jamey set the stack of folders on the dining table. “Liam is on his way here,” she said. “He’s bringing a couple more friends, people I trust. They’ll want to help too.”
Gretel was by the couch, opening her bag, but at that she looked up and over at Jamey. “Your friends would help me too?”
“Of course.” Jamey tapped the folders. “You said there might be something fishy about one of these filings, an 8-K?”
“That’s what I heard my dad imply on his call.” Gretel pulled a laptop out of her bag. “This was his,” she said as she crossed to the table and set it down next to the containers and folders. “My dad also mentioned he had talked to another shareholder that I know. We can look through his emails.”
Jamey raised her eyebrows. “Do the cops know you have your dad’s laptop?”
“Nope.” Gretel smiled without humor. “You’d think it’d be obvious that I might have borrowed it, but everyone in Seattle thinks I’m a useless figurehead while an AMI team does all the actual work on my blog. Well.” She cleared her throat. “Almost everyone, I should say. Reece knew the truth.”
Jamey swallowed. “Yeah,” she said. “A lot of people underestimate him too.”
“I bet,” Gretel said lightly. “Is Liam bringing Reece over tonight?”
“Um... no,” Jamey said awkwardly. “But—”
“Because you’ve never actually mentioned where Reece is.”
Jamey hid her wince. “He’s... traveling. Out of town.”
“Is he.” Gretel folded her arms. “Speaking of empaths, how about Cora Falcon? I haven’t seen her lately either.”
“Oh.” Jamey cleared her throat. “I, um. I’m not sure. Maybe the hospital knows?”
