Page 7

“Hey, Cass. How are you? Have I caught you at a bad time?”

That was new. Fallon used to just launch. No preamble, no checking. Whatever she needed, she said it, and Cassandra was already working on it before the sentence ended.

“Just finished a knitting project. The pension fund guy.”

“That’s great. How long did that one take?”

“Three weeks. But at least eleven veterans got their money back.”

“Nice. That’s good work, Cass.”

It was. A slightly awkward silence stretched out between them. Cassandra absolutely hated it.

“How’s Isaac? And superhero school?”

Fallon chuckled. “Rogue Division is keeping me busy. Isaac and I are good. Really good. We’re settling in.”

Three months ago, Cassandra wouldn’t have had to ask. She would have already known about Isaac, about the compound, about whatever Fallon had eaten for breakfast, because they would have been talking every day and the personal stuff came braided into the operational stuff and there was never a line between the two.

Now, she had to ask. And Fallon had to decide how much to say.

“I’m glad.”

She was. Completely. Isaac Baxter would burn the world to the ground to protect Fallon. Fallon deserved every bit of it after the damage her body had taken for years trying to help others.

The fact that Cassandra hadn’t figured out what to do with the space Fallon used to fill was nobody’s fault and nobody’s problem.

“Superhero school is actually the reason I’m calling.”

Cassandra sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay.”

“Rogue has a case.” A breath. “It’s kids, Cass.”

Shit.

“A trafficking ring. Children are being taken. Young kids.”

Cassandra sat up straighter. Everything else fell away. The man at the store, the headache, feeling sorry for herself because she didn’t get to talk to her bestie as often. Gone.

“We picked up a source on an unrelated operation who described a logistics outfit moving children as part of a larger criminal enterprise. I traced it back to the people running it, but that’s about all we have.”

“How many kids?”

“We don’t know. We don’t know how the operation works, where the children are going, or how it’s structured. We just know it’s organized and it’s active.”

Cassandra’s gaze was already at her computers. “How much data do you have?”

“Not enough. That’s the problem. We have pieces — missing children reports across multiple states that may or may not be connected, financial records that don’t lead anywhere obvious, communications we can’t make sense of yet. There’s a picture in there somewhere, but nobody on my team can see it.”

“You need someone to find the patterns.”

“I need you. Your brain. The way you find connections in data that other people walk right past.” Fallon’s voice had gone sharp, focused. “I need you to take everything we’ve got and figure out how this thing works. What connects these cases, how the operation moves, where the children are going.”

Children. Being taken. Disappearing into something organized enough to stay invisible.

Her chin came up.

“Of course I’ll help. This is damned well more important than what I’ve been doing. When can you send me the files?”