Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jo knew something was wrong the moment she pulled into the driveway.
Kevin’s car was parked beside Bridget’s, which wasn’t unusual—he’d been coming around more often lately, and Jo had pretended not to notice the way they looked at each other.
But this was different. The lights in the cottage were on, casting warm rectangles across the gravel, and through the window she could see two figures sitting in the living room. Not moving. Not talking.
Waiting.
Jo sat in her truck for a moment, keys still in the ignition, watching. Her cop instincts were screaming at her—the same instincts that had been screaming for days now, telling her that everyone around her was hiding something.
Apparently, tonight was the night she found out what.
She killed the engine and walked up to the porch. Pickles was curled on the rocking chair, his orange fur catching the light from inside. He blinked at her—slow, knowing—then went back to watching the darkness beyond the trees.
“Hey, buddy,” Jo murmured, scratching behind his ears. “You know something I don’t?”
Pickles offered no answer. Cats never did.
Jo pushed open the front door.
Bridget and Kevin were sitting on the couch, close but not touching. They both looked up when she walked in, and Bridget’s face—
Bridget’s face told her everything before anyone said a word.
Jo had seen that expression before. Years ago, when Bridget had shown up on her doorstep strung out and desperate, finally ready to admit she needed help. The look of someone about to crack open something they’d kept locked away for too long.
“What’s going on?” Jo asked, though part of her didn’t want to know.
“Sit down,” Bridget said quietly. “Please.”
Jo didn’t sit. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them both. In the corner, Finn circled his tank in lazy loops, oblivious to the tension filling the room.
“Jo.” Kevin’s voice was gentle. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”
Something in his tone made her move. She lowered herself into the armchair across from them, her back straight, her hands resting on her knees. Cop posture. Interrogation posture. She couldn’t help it.
The silence stretched. Outside, the wind moved through the trees, a soft whisper against the windows. Pickles appeared on the sill, pressing his nose to the glass like he wanted to watch from a safe distance.
Bridget took a breath. Then she started talking.
She started with the parts Jo already knew. The streets. The addiction. The bad people she’d fallen in with when she was young and desperate and didn’t know any better. But then she went further—deeper into territory she’d never shared before.
The Binding Chain. The organization she’d worked for, briefly, before she’d gotten out. The things she’d seen. The things she’d done.
Jo listened without interrupting. Her face stayed neutral, but inside, pieces were clicking into place. The way Bridget had always been so careful about her past. The way she flinched at certain questions. The gun Jo had found hidden under her bed last year and never mentioned.
When Bridget finished, her hands were shaking. Kevin’s arm had found its way around her shoulders at some point, and she leaned into him like he was the only thing keeping her upright.
“There’s more,” Kevin said quietly. He looked at Jo. “I’ve been doing some digging. Quietly. Trying to find out what we’re dealing with.”
“And?”
“Someone’s been monitoring my searches. Deleting files in real time.” Kevin’s jaw tightened. “At first I thought it was a glitch, maybe a virus. But it kept happening. Every time I found something connected to the Binding Chain, it vanished.”
Jo’s mind was already working. “You were searching law enforcement databases.”
“Some of it, yeah. Court records, federal files, archived case notes.”
“Which means whoever’s deleting your searches has access to those systems.” Jo felt the pieces clicking together. “Remember what Shaw said in the briefing? Cooper thought there was someone inside law enforcement working with this organization.”
Kevin nodded grimly. “And now we know she was right. Someone with database access is actively covering tracks.”
“So you set a trap,” Jo said. It wasn’t a question.
Kevin nodded. “Fake documents. A fictional case number, a made-up informant—specific enough to look real, but completely fabricated. Something that would only matter to someone who knew what I was searching for.” He paused.
“I saved the files, left them visible on my system. Checked them that night—still there. Next morning? Gone. Deleted overnight.”
Jo’s mind raced. “Wyatt.”
“That’s what I think. He’s got the skills. The access. And he’s been acting off for weeks—you’ve seen it too.”
Jo had. The way Wyatt flinched at his phone. The tension in his shoulders. The way he volunteered for tasks that kept him near a computer.
“But there’s something else.” Kevin glanced at Bridget, then back at Jo. “I found partial records before they were wiped. An internal list from the organization. Names, descriptions, notes on people they’re looking for.”
Jo’s stomach dropped. “Bridget’s name?”
“No. But there was a description.” Kevin’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Female. Late teens at the time of involvement. Auburn hair. Distinctive scar on the left forearm. Ran with a crew in Portland before relocating to the Northeast. Participated in cleanup operations. Witness to leadership.”
Bridget’s voice was hollow. “That’s me. Every detail.”
Jo sat back, processing. Her sister. Her team. Everything tangled together in ways she was only beginning to understand.
“There’s something else you should know,” Jo said slowly.
“I had Mick look into both FBI agents. Keller checks out—clean record, legitimate investigation into his partner’s murder.
” She paused. “But Shaw’s different. She’s on personal leave.
No official assignment. Whatever she’s doing here, it’s not Bureau business. ”
Kevin frowned. “So she’s running her own investigation?”
“Looks like it. I caught her taking surveillance photos of the station yesterday. Back entrance, parking lot, officers’ vehicles. She gave me some line about standard procedure, but she was lying.”
Bridget’s face had gone pale. “So there’s someone inside the department who might be compromised, and an FBI agent running a secret investigation into the same people who—“ She couldn’t finish.
“Who might be looking for you,” Jo finished quietly. “Yeah.”
The room fell silent. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows.
Jo stood, her face hardening into the mask she wore when she was working a case. The emotions—the shock, the hurt, the fear for her sister—she pushed them down, locked them away. She could deal with those later.
Right now, she had work to do.
“Don’t do anything yet,” she said, her voice steady now. “Either of you. Don’t change your behavior, don’t ask questions, don’t let Wyatt—or Shaw—know we suspect anything.”
“Jo—“ Bridget started.
“I mean it.” Jo turned to look at her sister, and some of the hardness softened. “I believe you. I understand why you kept this secret. But right now, the best thing you can do is act normal. Go to work. Bake your cookies. Don’t give anyone a reason to think anything’s changed.”
“What are you going to do?” Kevin asked.
“First thing tomorrow, I’m talking to Sam. He needs to know what we’re dealing with.” Jo’s jaw tightened. “Then we figure out what Wyatt’s actually doing. Whether he’s compromised or being coerced. What Shaw’s really after. How all of this connects.”
She paused, looking back at them—Kevin with his hand still on Bridget’s shoulder, Bridget with tears drying on her cheeks, both of them watching her with a mix of fear and hope.
“And Bridge?” Jo’s voice softened. “We’ll deal with the rest of it later. All of it. But right now, I need you safe. Can you do that for me?”
Bridget nodded, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Jo crossed back to the couch in three quick strides and pulled her sister into a fierce hug. “I know,” she whispered against Bridget’s hair. “I know. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
When she pulled back, her face was set. Determined. The sister was still there, but so was the cop—and right now, the cop had a job to do.
“Kevin, you’re staying here tonight,” Jo said. It wasn’t a question. “I don’t want either of you alone until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Kevin nodded. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
Jo moved to the window, looking out into the darkness. Pickles had disappeared from the rocking chair, probably hunting in the woods. The night was cold and still, and somewhere out there, people were keeping secrets that could get her sister killed.
Wyatt—compromised or coerced, she didn’t know which yet. Shaw—running some kind of off-the-books investigation for reasons Jo couldn’t see. The Binding Chain—the organization that had used her sister and was now circling White Rock.
Tomorrow, she’d start pulling threads.
She turned back to the room. Kevin and Bridget were watching her, both of them waiting.
“We need a plan,” Jo said. “A real one. Not just watching and waiting—something that forces their hand.”
Kevin leaned forward. “What about another test?”
Jo looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“The trap I set proved someone’s watching. But it didn’t tell us who—just that they have access and they’re paying attention.” Kevin’s eyes were sharp now, the detective in him surfacing. “What if we set something bigger? Something that forces them to act, not just delete?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. But if Wyatt’s the one monitoring the system, maybe we can use that. Feed him something he has to respond to. Something that makes him—or whoever’s pulling his strings—show their hand.”
Jo turned it over in her mind. It was risky. If they tipped off the wrong person, Bridget could be in danger. But Kevin was right—they couldn’t keep playing defense.
“We’d need Sam,” she said slowly. “If we’re going to do something like that, we need him in on it.”
Kevin nodded. “First thing tomorrow?”
“First thing tomorrow.” Jo ran a hand through her hair. “But we can’t rush this. We need to think it through. One wrong move and we lose any advantage we have.”
Bridget’s voice was small. “And if we can’t figure it out? If they find me first?”
Jo met her sister’s eyes. “Then we make sure we’re ready when they try.”
The cottage fell quiet. Outside, an owl called somewhere in the dark woods, a lonely sound swallowed by the night.
“Get some sleep,” Jo said finally. “Both of you. Tomorrow we figure out our next move.”
She waited until Bridget had disappeared down the hall, until Kevin had stretched out on the couch with a blanket, before she let herself sink into the armchair by the window.
Sleep wouldn’t come tonight. Jo knew that. But she sat in the dark anyway, watching the shadows move across the yard, turning plans over in her mind like stones.
By morning, she’d have something.
She had to.