Send it.
Three seconds later, a name appears on my screen.
I read it once.
Then again.
I set the phone face down on the counter, exhale slowly through my nose, and stand very still in the dark kitchen for a long moment.
Because the name Miles just sent me isn't a stranger.
And this just got a whole lot more complicated.
I read the name again.
Then I call Miles.
He picks up before the first ring finishes. "You saw it."
"Who else knows?"
"Just me." His voice is quieter than usual. Careful. "I haven't logged it anywhere. Came straight to you."
"Good." I press my thumb and forefinger against my eyes, exhaling slowly. "Keep it that way."
A beat of silence.
"Hayden—"
"Don't tell Cain."
The silence that follows is a different kind. Heavier.
"H," Miles says slowly. "If he finds out we sat on this?—"
"I know, and I’ll take full blame for it."
"He will find out. He always finds out, that's literally what he?—"
"Miles." My voice comes out flat and quiet, the tone that stops conversations. "Don't tell Cain."
Another pause. I can hear him thinking, working through it the way he does, turning it over. Out of all of us, he’s the one who follows Cain’s rule the best. Well, after me anyway. But not this time. I’m breaking the rules for myself.
"The driver isn't on the list," he says finally. It’s not a question.
"No."
"So Cain would never?—"
"No. He wouldn't." I set the phone on the counter and switch to the speaker, moving to the window again. "You know the rule, Miles. Nobody goes after anyone not on that list. That's not a guideline; it's not a preference. It's the one rule Cain has never once bent."
"So, what do we do?"
That's the question, isn't it.
The name on my phone screen sits there like a live wire. Someone who made a choice, got behind a wheel, and left Olivia's parents broken in the road. Someone who hasn't been touched, hasn't answered for it, and has probably been sleeping just fine every night since.
And they're not on Cain's list.
