Page 144 of No Good Fight

I straighten. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Remy looks at me for a long moment before sliding the aerial image closer. “Stay beside me until we have eyes inside. Once we know where she is, we adjust. If you stop listening because you see Preston, Carter puts you on the ground.”

Carter doesn’t look up from his phone. “Happy to.”

Casey glances toward his brother. “You always did enjoy tackling people.”

“It’s the little things.”

That is all the banter we get.

Another vibration moves across the table.

Alex’s phone.

Every man in the room looks at it.

Remy is the one who takes it from the evidence sleeve far enough to see the screen without handling the device directly.

A photograph loads.

My truck is parked on the side of a narrow dirt lane, nose angled toward a wall of wet trees. The driver’s door is shut, but I recognize the service road immediately from the property map spread in front of Logan.

The message underneath is short.

Unknown: She made the right choice.

My lungs stop working correctly.

Josh steps beside me, close enough that his shoulder hits mine, while Remy checks the metadata and Carter takes a picture of the screen with his department phone.

“He wants us to know now,” Logan says.

“He wants Ryder to know,” Carter answers. “He wants to get Ryder there, for whatever’s next.”

Remy looks at me. “He may be shifting to the next part of whatever he planned.”

“I don’t care what he planned.”

“I know. That’s why you’re riding with me.”

Nobody bothers arguing anymore.

The house empties fast, but not chaotically. Casey folds the printed building plan and tucks it inside his jacket. Josh takes the laptop long enough to send the reports to everyone’s phones, then leaves it on the counter. Carter makes one last call as he walks outside. Logan checks the gear in his bag before shutting it and carrying it under one arm.

I stop at the bottom of the stairs.

For one second, the rest of them keep moving without realizing I have.

From where I’m standing, I can see the corner of the hallway leading upstairs. I can see the dim light I left on in the bedroom. Somewhere up there are the sheets Alex slept in, the water I gave her, the medication I lined up because I thought the biggest problem I had tonight was making sure she woke up if her headache got worse.

She told me she loved me in that room.

Then she waited until I fell asleep and prepared me to find her body.

Josh comes back through the doorway when he realizes I’m not behind him. He doesn’t ask what I’m doing. His eyes follow mine toward the stairs, and whatever he sees on my face is enough.

“She’s not dying there,” he says. “We’re bringing her home.”