CHAPTER SIX
Miles stared at his laptop screen, scrolling through the latest batch of news articles that Sarah Kim's system had flagged.
The algorithm she'd built was sophisticated, pulling from police blotters, local news sites, and coroner reports across the entire country.
It searched for keywords like "unusual," "unexplained," "bizarre," and "suspicious circumstances.
" The result was a daily digest of America's strangest deaths.
Sadly, Miles had started to see most of the hits as plain or mundane.
Most were exactly what you'd expect. Drug overdoses with weird substances.
Accidents involving farm equipment or industrial machinery.
The occasional murder that stood out because of its brutality or location.
Miles had learned to skim quickly, looking for patterns that might indicate an Elementalist disciple at work.
Today's batch included a man in Idaho who'd been found dead in his basement with eight different types of fertilizer spread around his body.
The local police had thought it was some sort of accidental poisoning from mixing chemicals he shouldn't have.
In Tennessee, a woman had died after being stung by hundreds of wasps that had somehow gotten into her sealed bedroom.
In Oregon, someone had drowned in their own hot tub despite the water being less than four feet deep.
Strange deaths, certainly. But none of them screamed "disciple" to Miles.
The Elementalist murders had a precision to them, a deliberate quality that separated them from random accidents or crimes of passion.
Kane's followers planned meticulously and selected their victims according to specific criteria.
These deaths felt chaotic by comparison.
In fact, most of them did. But for now, this was the most thorough and all-encompassing approach.
Miles made notes on a few that seemed worth following up on, then moved to close the laptop when a knock sounded at his office door.
"Come in."
Vic Stone entered, closing the door behind her.
She was wearing dark slacks and a blazer, her hair pulled back in a practical style that suggested she'd come straight from another meeting. Her expression was serious in a way that immediately put Miles on alert. They’d started working together so often that her manner and expressions were usually fairly relaxed and almost happy. But not right now.
"We need to go to California," she said without preamble.
Miles leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out if she was being serious. Again, though, her expression suggested there was no room for joking right now. "When?"
"Today. Hayes wants us on a flight this afternoon."
"What's in California?"
"Two bodies. Both dropped from extreme altitude. Local sheriffs are thinking it might be connected to the Elementalist cases."
Miles felt skepticism rise automatically.
He hadn’t read about them in his daily deluge of odd deaths.
Of course, stories like the one Vic was presenting usually took a day or two to hit the normal media airwaves.
"Might be?” he said. “Vic, California is three thousand miles away.
You're telling me Hayes wants us to fly across the country on a 'might be'?
That seems like a waste of time and resources. "
"It's more than that." Vic pulled out her phone and scrolled through some notes.
"One of the bodies was found in the Mojave Desert just this morning.
Female, early thirties, wearing a harness with weather balloon fragments tangled in the straps.
Impact site consistent with a fall from at least thirty thousand feet. "
"And the second?"
"That's the interesting part. Last night, an amateur astronomer named Clyde Newsome spotted something in the sky off the California coast. He thought it was a weather balloon at first, but when he looked closer, he saw a person attached to it.
He called a friend at the FAA, who confirmed with the National Weather Service that there were no official balloon launches scheduled. "
Miles sat forward. "They watched it happen?"
"Yes. Newsome tracked the object through his telescope while his friend coordinated with emergency services. They watched multiple balloons burst in sequence and the victim fall. The body was recovered this morning in the Santa Monica Mountains."
"Weather balloons." Miles stood up and walked to the window. His office overlooked the parking lot, nothing scenic, but he needed to move while he processed this. "That's helium. An inert gas. It fits the elemental pattern."
"That's what Hayes thinks, too. He wants you, me, and Sarah Kim on the ground in LA as soon as possible."
Miles turned back to face her. "Sarah's coming?"
"Hayes insisted. He thinks we need her analytical skills for this one." Vic hesitated slightly. "And honestly, I think he's right. If this is another disciple, we're going to need all the help we can get. It just makes sense for her to be there with us."
Miles nodded slowly, his skepticism fading as the details sank in. Weather balloons. A witnessed death. Two victims in the same general area using the same impossible method. This wasn't a "might be" anymore. As a matter of fact, he found himself suddenly anxious.
"All right. When do we leave?"
"Hayes wants us on a flight at 1:30. That gives us about ninety minutes to get our things together and coordinate with the LA field office." Vic checked her phone. "Kim's already been notified. She's meeting us back here in twenty minutes."
Miles closed his laptop and started gathering the files he'd need. "I'll grab my go bag from my car. What else do we know about the victims?"
"Not much yet. The first one has been identified as Amanda Parker, thirty-two, from Los Angeles. Worked as a professional skydiver. The second victim hasn't been ID'd yet, but preliminary description suggests female, similar age range."
"A skydiver," Miles said, more to himself than to Vic. "Someone who spent her life jumping from planes, killed by being sent into the sky without any control."
"The irony isn't lost on me either." Vic moved toward the door. "I'm going to make a few calls to LA. Meet back here in fifteen?"
"I'll be here."
Vic left and Miles stood alone in his office for a moment, looking at the files spread across his desk.
Another disciple. Another element. Another set of victims who'd died because Gabriel Kane had convinced someone that murder was a form of purification.
He thought about his conversation with Kane at the prison.
The man's taunts about how many disciples were still out there.
About how the work would continue regardless of how many they caught.
Kane had been right, and Miles hated him for it.
Miles grabbed his jacket and headed for the parking garage. His go bag was in the trunk of his car, always packed and ready. One of the lessons he'd learned over the past year was to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. The Elementalist disciples didn't operate on a schedule.
When he returned to his office, Sarah Kim was already there, leaning against his desk with her own bag at her feet. She looked up as he entered, and Miles immediately noticed something in her expression. The same concern he'd seen in Vic's face earlier.
"Hey," Kim said. "Ready for California?"
"As ready as I'm going to be. Have you been properly briefed yet?"
"Just the basics. Hayes forwarded me the bullet-list and slight details about an hour ago." Kim shook her head in disbelief. "Weather balloons filled with helium. That's got to be our element, right? Helium is noble gas number two on the periodic table."
"That's my guess. We won't know for sure until we see if there's a manifesto, but the methodology fits Kane's pattern."
"And the witnesses," Kim added. "That amateur astronomer and his FAA contact. That's huge. We've never had anyone actually watch one of these murders happen in real time before."
"Assuming they can give us useful information. Watching something through a telescope from miles away isn't the same as being on the ground."
"It's still more than we usually get."
Vic showed up then, walking quickly and carrying a folder thick with printouts.
"The LA field office is expecting us. They've got a team ready to brief us as soon as we land, and they're coordinating with the local sheriff's departments on both crime scenes. They’re hoping to have a positive ID on the second body by the time we get there. "
Kim picked up her bag but didn't move toward the door. She was looking at Miles with that same expression again, and he felt his patience starting to fray.
"What?" he asked, more sharply than he intended.
Kim glanced at Vic, who had stopped by the door. Some silent communication passed between them that Miles couldn't quite read, but he knew what it meant. They'd been talking about him recently; it was that sort of look.
"Miles," Kim started carefully, "before we head out, we just want to make sure you're okay with this. With flying across the country for another case so soon after Seattle."
"I'm fine. Enough time has passed."
"Are you sure?" Vic stepped away from the door, her tone gentle but firm. "Because Agent Kim and I have both noticed that you've been struggling since you got back. And we're worried about you."
Miles felt heat rise in his chest. "You two have been talking about me."
"Yes," Vic said simply. "Because we care about you and we can see that you're not doing well. That's not a criticism, Miles. It's just us being honest."
"I'm seeing a therapist. I'm dealing with it."
"But are you? Because from where we're standing, it looks like you're just pushing through without actually processing what happened to you in that chamber."
Miles looked between them, feeling trapped by their concern.
"What do you want me to say? That I'm having nightmares?
That I can't go into elevators without my chest tightening?
I know I'm not doing great right now. But we have two dead bodies in California and another disciple out there planning who knows what.
So forgive me if I don't have time to fall apart. "
"Nobody's asking you to fall apart," Vic said. "We're asking you to take care of yourself while you do this job."
"I am taking care of myself. I'm going to therapy,” he repeated. “I'm managing."
Sarah and Vic exchanged another look, and Miles knew they didn't believe him. Hell, he barely believed himself. But he also knew that stepping away from this case wasn't an option. Not when people were dying. Not when Kane's network was still active.
"Look," Miles said, forcing his tone to soften, "I appreciate the concern. I do. But I need you both to trust that I know my own limits. If I couldn't do this job, I'd say so. I'm not going to put the investigation at risk because of my own issues."
Vic studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "All right. But we're going to be paying attention, Miles. If we think you're in over your head, we're going to say something. Both of us."
"Fair enough," he said, doing everything he could to swallow down the rising anger that was threatening to overtake him.
Kim picked up her bag again, though she still looked uncertain. "Hayes specifically asked me to keep an eye on how this case affects you. He's worried, too."
"So Hayes knows about this intervention you two have planned?" he asked, the words sounding much more bitter than he’d intended.
"It's not an intervention," Vic said. "It's colleagues looking out for each other. And yes, Hayes is aware of our concerns. That's part of why he wanted all three of us on this case. He thinks you need the support."
Miles wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he didn't need anyone watching over him like he was fragile. But the truth was that he probably did need the support, even if accepting it made him feel weak.
"Can we go now?" Miles asked. "We're going to miss our flight if we keep standing here talking about my mental health."
Vic grabbed her own bag and headed for the door. "Let's move then. We can continue this conversation on the plane if we need to."
“No, we won’t,” Miles spat, heading for the door. “This conversation is over.”
The three of them left Miles's office and headed for the parking garage with a tight cloud of tension around them. As they walked, Miles could feel both women watching him from the corners of their eyes—assessing, monitoring, and ready to step in if he showed signs of breaking down.
He understood why they were worried. He even appreciated it, in a way. But their concern also felt like pressure, like one more thing he had to manage while trying to do his job.
They reached Vic's car and loaded their bags into the trunk. As Vic started the engine, Miles pulled out his phone and saw that Hayes’s assistant had emailed the case files—still quite meager so early in the case.
Two victims. Weather balloons. Helium as the likely element.
As far as Miles was concerned, another disciple was indeed at work.
And Miles was flying across the country to stop them, panic attacks and nightmares and concerned colleagues be damned.