Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Dr. Fields stood slowly, her movements stiff, guarded.
She didn’t meet their eyes. Just walked to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway.
Alex caught the low murmur of her voice as she radioed for a nurse and the inmate.
Then the door clicked shut behind her. The room felt colder the second she was gone.
Alex turned to Brad, voice low. “You really think it’s Elias? Rook?”
Brad nodded once, still staring at the door. “Charlotte says she feels like someone’s been watching her. Not just paranoia—timing, positioning. Whoever it is knows how to disappear. How to stay off-grid. Knows her schedule better than she does.”
Alex’s stomach tightened. He didn’t like where this was going. “You think he’s targeting her?”
Brad shook his head. “I think he’s circling her. Watching. Trying to figure out where she stands. If she’s part of what Gideon was trying to tear down. Or maybe…”
Alex’s jaw clenched. He finished it himself. “…maybe he thinks she helped put his father away. And now he’s deciding if she deserves to pay for it.” The idea tasted like metal in his mouth.
Brad’s voice was flat. “Elias Ward is alive. And he’s not a scared kid anymore. He’s a grown man with twenty-five years of pain and training under his skin. If he’s stalking Charlotte, he’s doing it with intent.”
Alex paced, trying to burn off the edge rising in his chest. He saw it clearly now—every close call, every unspoken question Charlotte hadn’t voiced.
That look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching.
“He’s had chances,” Alex said. “If he wanted to hurt her, he could have. He’s holding back for a reason. ”
Brad looked at him.
“He’s trying to figure her out,” Alex continued. “Trying to see if she’s someone he can use. Someone who might help him finish what Gideon started. Whatever this program was supposed to be, someone twisted it. Turned it into something Gideon would’ve never stood behind.”
Brad let out a slow breath, the tension thick between them. “To Elias,” he said, “Charlotte might just be another variable. Until she proves she isn’t.”
Alex nodded, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. If Elias Ward was out there—if he was watching—this wasn’t just about trust or justice. It was about survival.
The door opened, and the night nurse walked in first—mid-fifties, worn-down, with that look nurses in places like this all shared: tired eyes, used to silence and secrets. She moved like someone who knew how to stay small in a room full of trouble.
Behind her, flanked by two correctional officers, came the inmate. Wiry. Twitchy. Cuffed hands in front, jaw tight. The cellmate.
Alex tracked them both as they entered, his body wired with a low, alert tension.
Brad stepped forward, voice hard. “Sit. Both of you.”
The nurse obeyed slowly, settling in like this was just another shift. The inmate slouched in the chair, eyes darting between them like he was waiting to be struck.
Brad pointed at the nurse first. “What did Ward say the night before he died?”
She hesitated. Her gaze flicked toward the guards, then to Dr. Fields standing quietly in the back, unreadable.
“He was rambling,” the nurse said. “Kept muttering about someone in the dark. Said, ‘He’s here already. He’s waiting.’ Over and over.”
Alex leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Did he say who?”
She shook her head nervously. “No name. Just… ‘Rook.’ Said it like a warning. Like he knew he was already dead.”
Alex felt that word land again—Rook—and the sense of something closing in ticked louder in his head.
Brad turned to the inmate. “What about you?”
The guy licked his lips, twitching a little in his seat.
He didn’t look scared—just nervous, calculating.
“Man talked in circles most nights. But when he was clear?” The inmate whistled low.
“Scary clear. Said his kid was out there. Said he’d come back to ‘reset the balance.’ I figured he was doped out, but he meant it. ”
“Did he ever mention Charlotte Everhart?” Brad asked.
That made the inmate pause. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t know if it was Everhart,” he said slowly. “But he talked about a woman. A Charlotte. Said she was the only one left who’d understand.”
Brad stiffened. Alex felt it too, like a wire pulled tight in his chest. “Understand what?” he asked, voice sharper than intended.
The inmate hesitated, then leaned forward, voice lower. “The loss. Said she carried it like he did. That she was the only one he could still trust.”
The room was dead quiet. Brad stepped back slightly, working through it.
Alex froze. She was the only one left who’d understand. That wasn’t something you guessed. That wasn’t vague paranoia. That was specific.
“He trusted her,” Alex said, almost to himself. The pieces were snapping into place—hard, fast, unforgiving. “He believed they shared something. Loss. Grief.” He looked up. “But Chuck, Charlotte’s husband, he didn’t die until four years after Gideon was already locked up.”
Brad turned toward him. “You’re sure?”
Alex nodded slowly. “She told me. She gave birth to Izzy after the trial. Had Ruth two years later. Ruth was two when Chuck died. That’s four years after Ward was already in here.” He sat back, blood running cold. “He couldn’t have known about Chuck unless someone told him.”
The silence sharpened.
“Or…” Alex said, the word catching in his throat, “…Charlotte came to see him.”
Brad’s expression shifted. Tightened. “She never said anything.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Alex glanced toward the door Dr. Fields had stepped out of. “But that kind of grief, Ward saw it in her. Which means he saw her. In person.”
Brad was already thinking ahead. “If she visited him, it wasn’t a coincidence. It was a decision. Pull the prison logs.”
Alex nodded, his voice low. “That bond he talked about. Th at wasn’t imagined. He knew something real about her. Something private. Personal.”
Brad’s jaw clenched. “Which means, if Elias is watching her now…”
Alex finished it, heart thudding, “It might not be as a threat.”
Brad stared at him. “It might be as family.”
The air in the room changed. The threat shifted.
Brad’s face hardened. “Either way, she’s at the center of this. We need to get to her. Before he does something none of us can take back.”
Alex didn’t answer. He was already moving.
Ethan’s glare could’ve shattered glass. He stood across from Charlotte and Graham, barely keeping himself in check, the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves.
“I’m done with the game playing,” he said, voice tight. “Charlotte, I know you’re not my leak.”
Charlotte opened her mouth, but Ethan held up a hand. “Save it. Graham, I don’t trust you. I’ve had eyes on you.”
His voice dropped to nearly a whisper—just for them. “Someone in this room betrayed the group,” he said, eyes hard. “And I’m going to pin it on you,” he added, turning to Graham.
Graham didn’t flinch. Just nodded once. He understood.
Ethan straightened, took a slow breath, then… “ENOUGH!” he roared, voice booming across the operations floor.
Heads snapped up. Conversations froze. Coffee cups paused mid-air.
He pointed a finger at Graham like it was a loaded weapon. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think you could just run your mouth and slide out clean?” he bellowed. “You’re a retired detective. You have no protection, and you betrayed the team I let you join as a courtesy.”
People stood now. Whispering. Staring.
“I told you I’d bury the bastard who leaked intel to the press,” Ethan continued, pacing like a man ready to explode. “And guess what, Graham? All signs point to you!”
He grabbed a pair of cuffs from his belt. “You’re done. Get up.”
Graham stayed still. Let it happen.
Ethan yanked his wrist and clamped one cuff to the desk, loud and final. “You sit there and think about what kind of coward turns on their own,” he spat. “You want to come clean? Now’s your chance.”
The room was dead silent. Charlotte stared at Ethan, wide-eyed. It was all part of the play—but only the select few knew that.
And whoever the real leak was, they were watching this unfold and thinking they were safe.
Big mistake.
The room still buzzed with tension, law enforcement officers whispering behind monitors, pretending not to watch while they listened to every word. Charlotte and Graham played their roles.
Graham sat cuffed to the desk, silent, his eyes fixed ahead. Charlotte kept her expression blank, but her knuckles were white around the edge of the table.
Then Noah walked in, coffee in hand, brow furrowed at the tension thick in the air. He scanned the room, noticed the way everyone was looking in one direction, and then saw Graham, cuffed.
“What the hell?” he muttered, striding toward Ethan. “Can I talk to you?”
Ethan didn’t turn. “Not now.”
“I’m serious.” Noah stepped closer. “Outside. Now.”
Ethan looked back at Graham, voice sharp. “If you so much as shift in that chair, I’ll make sure you never stand again. Got me?”
Graham gave the smallest nod.
Ethan followed Noah out of the room into the hallway just beyond the glass. As soon as the door clicked shut, Noah rounded on him.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “This was your plan?”
“It’s a performance,” Ethan said, jaw tight. “To rattle the leak. Make them feel safe.”
Noah leaned in. “It’s not Graham.”
Ethan stilled. “I know that.”
Noah’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s Nathan Stokes.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“I suspected. Then I checked the terminal logs,” Noah said. “Someone accessed the external line from Stokes’ system at 2:04 a.m. The same time the press got that tip about the sealed briefing. It’s buried, but it’s there.”
Ethan’s jaw flexed. “Stokes.”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “And he’s watching this circus right now thinking he’s off the hook.”
Ethan glanced through the glass, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Stokes, standing at his desk, arms crossed, watching everything too carefully.
Ethan nodded slowly. “Good. Let him think that.”
He turned back to Noah, voice calm and cold. “Let’s see how he behaves now that he thinks we’re idiots.”