26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alot to unpack here
Keir
M att’s signal in the kitchen hasn’t helped my frame of mind.
Two taps to the wrist-code sixty-seven.
When I was training for the FBI, Matt and I would have long conversations about trusting our guts and relying on one another to have each other’s backs. We developed an inside code known only to us. In the event we’re working a case, and it’s determined it’s been compromised-whether it’s law enforcement agents, or other government officials who have proven dirty or untrustworthy- we’d give the signal.
Until now it’s never been needed.
The number dialing him had been his ex-wife, who still works at the bureau with Internal Affairs. She called on one of the cell phones Hutton made untraceable, telling him the Jets are projected to win, and it should be a nice game with a temp of sixty-seven. His response indicated he’d let family know-family being me. She delivered the message in code in case one of them is being monitored to let us know the New York field office is compromised.
There is agency involvement with the Realists and what is happening to our family right now. The added insult is I can’t let on we know a thing.
Matt and I are unable to tell our family.
I’m surprised when Matt lets on that a blacked-out SUV was seen on camera with a plate tracing back to Starlit Fleet. But Bristow and Harrison know that, too. If pointing out my unmarked squad matches that description also gives Eden, Blaine, or Caleb any clue about FBI involvement-then good. Keeping this from them is going to be miserable.
It gives me a margin of relief that Weston will not be harmed. If it’s a choice between leverage for the FBI and a child sex trafficker or psychopath bent on spilling Lassiter or Bradford blood, I’ll take the FBI.
I don’t understand why, though.
Why would they have anything to do with the Realists anymore? The unraveling years ago behind the government testing being done should’ve ended it all. Between prison sentences and mysterious deaths…it appeared done.
Could Matt’s ex be wrong?
I’m navigating this with a strong layer of haze. The way I cope by shutting down isn’t helping, it’s not keeping away the paralyzing fear we won’t be successful in getting our son back.
That we’re already too late.
I also don’t like how cagey Blaine is being about Hutton’s whereabouts. When he left, doing his shady-ass dip out, we didn’t realize. It’s not the first time he’s gone dark when he leaves with no phone, and we have no clue where he went. I won’t press though…I know he’s searching for Weston.
Unlike Matt, I don’t care one bit if he uses force or causes harm to people in his way. Not this time. I’m a father first, agent second.
Harrison made a good point…If the FBI is involved, wouldn’t they cover it up better? It’s an amateur move to have the SUV on the camera and then cut out thirty-nine minutes of footage.
I pull Eden into my lap. She hasn’t drifted to sleep despite her body being limp from exhaustion. We’re still holding vigil in the living room. Kathy put the kids to bed, who all opted to sleep in Wes’s room. Even Zinnea, who at one point covered Waverly with a blanket.
Matt’s pacing is getting on my nerves. Every few minutes, he’s on the phone or texting various people. The tension between him and Blaine is just getting worse as the minutes tick by. He’s glowering in a corner at Matt, occasionally making snide remarks.
But Caleb has me worried. He won’t sit with us.
Cleaning, cooking, watching the kids, comforting us…He’s not letting it sink in. That Weston isn’t here.
And why he’s not here.
His remark about the ninjas was insightful. Sadly, Zach told me when I asked him it was just pretending.
Eden pulls away, standing to walk up to the stair railing. Blaine is getting up to follow her but she’s back after snagging Weston’s favorite blanket, which is covered in lassoing cowboys, from the rail where it’s draped, wrapping it around herself. He pulls her to him, whispering in her ear. She leans into him, tears falling again.
I want to fix it all, to take away the events of the day and watch her light up as the kids run her way. I want to make it better.
Matt has just left the room on the phone when Harrison sits next to me with a sigh. “This isn’t looking good. It’s been fourteen hours with no real direction.” My stomach takes a dive. He’s not wrong. The possibility that Weston comes home alive has reduced dramatically. “Got to ask…Did you ever ask Matt about Halcyon?”
Weird timing, but, okay, what’s this about? “No. Can you just tell me what you know? I could Google it, but you’ll understand if I tell you I’m not in the mood.”
Putting his elbows on his knees, hands steepled, he says, “You won’t find a thing on Google, kid. Three years ago, the government floated a project, approval hidden in hundreds of pages of a bill they were looking to pass on fiscal reform in the military. It was an FBI testing proposal. The terms of it were fairly vague. In the bill, I mean. But that project outline landed on Matt’s desk. He called me in to have a look. Eerily familiar to what happened at Camp Carroll.”
“Okay…that’s terrifying. What happened?” Don’t beat around the bush please. I’m already not thinking clearly.
“Well, wish I could tell you.” He looks at me through narrowed eyes. “I asked him about it a week later and he denied the whole exchange. Told me he never talked with me about anything like that. It was…To this day, I don’t understand what happened. Figured if you asked, he’d tell you.”
“Why are you telling me this right now?” I lean in and ask him quietly.
“I’m not accusing Matt of anything.” He looks over at Eden, who’s now balled up under Weston’s blanket on Blaine’s lap. “But if Halcyon was set up three years ago under his supervision-”
I open my mouth to stop his outrageous assertion, but he puts a hand up. “Just hear me out. If he got wrapped up in that, just like the agents with Camp Carroll did, everyone involved would be at risk if an oversight committee caught wind of it. They’d find a way to pull those agents back in line…or worse case, eliminate them. It may be an angle we have to look at. It wouldn’t be the first time”
Holy fuck. Unease trickles through me. The code…Am I being fucked with?
Or do I not trust my husband like I should?
“You could be telling me this just to get me to distrust Matt. How do I know that’s not what’s happening?”
“Why show my hand? I’m only telling you because you’re a good agent. You’re still new enough not to be jaded or have compassion burnout. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. Be smart, kid.”