Page 81 of Undertow

One of the agents stopped writing. Just stopped, pen hovering over his pad, and listened.

Elena didn't notice. She stared at a point on the wall behind them as she spoke, voice firm. She'd earned that. She'd walked back into this building standing up, and she was giving her testimony the same way.

Not rescued. Self-recovered.

In the hallway behind them, Tom sat on a bench against the wall with an ice pack pressed to his jaw. His cracked glasses lay folded in his shirt pocket. He'd given his own statement an hour ago and now he was just waiting — eyes on the floor, breathing slowly, the way a man waits when there's nothing left to do but be where his daughter could find him.

Footsteps thundered around the corner at speed.

"Dad."

Piper flew down the hall and went straight for him. She grabbed Tom's face in both hands and examined the swelling jaw with the furious tenderness of a kid who had spent too much time imagining the worst.

Finally she pulled back. "You look horrible."

Tom grinned, though the movement looked painful. "Love you, too."

"Seriously. Terrible." She made a face.

"I'm good." Tom stilled her hands and looked straight into her young face.

"Your glasses are broken."

"I have a spare pair."

She hugged him. Hard. Tom closed his eyes and cupped the back of her head.

Gabe felt Cara slip out of the doorway and into the hall beside him. She watched Tom and Piper for a moment, then turned her face away. Gabe knew what that was. He didn't say anything.

A moment later Elena emerged from the conference room, an agent at her elbow. Piper let go of her father and intercepted Elena with a hug — quick and fierce and wordless.

Over Piper's shoulder, Elena's eyes found Cara's. Cara nodded once. Elena nodded back.

Then Piper made a beeline for Wade, who was leaning against the opposite wall with a butterfly bandage above his eyebrow, and inspected it with a critical eye. "That's going to scar."

"I'm counting on it," Wade said. "What good's getting dinged up if you got nothing to show for it?"

Piper stilled, clearly thinking that through. Then her face cleared. “Can I drive the truck back to Haven Cove?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wade. I’m responsible⁠—“

“No.”

She grinned at him. He almost grinned back. For Wade, that was practically a group hug.

Tom was sitting on a bench in the hallway when Reagan came back inside. She’d been coordinating with the agents—logistics, evidence chain, the machinery of aftermath that somebody had to run. She stopped in front of Tom, straightening his crooked glasses with a gentle touch. Tom caught her wrist. She leaned her forehead against his for a moment that lasted longer than a moment, and neither of them said anything, because they didn’t need to.

Gabe looked away. Cara gave him a small half-smile that said she’d seen it, and that it was good, and that some things didn’t need commentary.

Wade slipped out through the fire exit. Gabe heard his voice through the cracked door—low, soft.

“Yeah. It’s done. We’re coming home.” A pause. “No, everybody’s fine.” Another pause, longer. “I’ll stop by Giovanni’s. The cat must be out of salmon by now.”

Gabe couldn’t hear Diane’s response, but whatever it was made the big man chuckle.

One of Becky’s agents—a woman in her forties with short hair and the patient expression of someone who’d been filling out forms in ugly situations for a long time—found Gabe in the hallway. She had a clipboard. And questions.