Chapter 23
Gabe
Back at Evie’s townhome, I stand behind her as she completes the form for the official complaint.
I’ve been here before—in her home. As friends. A family friend. Before she became mine in a way we haven’t yet named. Before we had our first fight.
Tonight the house feels smaller. Charged. Like the walls are listening.
My suitcase sits downstairs in the kitchen by the back door where I left it when we arrived from the airport.
She hasn’t asked me to stay.
But she hasn’t asked me to leave, either.
I’m staying—obviously—but whether that’s in her guestroom or her bedroom is up to her.
Atlas, her cat, greeted her with a meow that sounded like a complaint, swished his tail around her leg, and then disappeared. She said she had a pet sitter check in on him, but that mostly involves replenishing food and water and cleaning the litterbox, as Atlas is sometimes a challenge to locate.
He’s now perched on the back of an armchair, quietly observing.
Since Evie’s already completed most of the complaint, she does a lot of cutting and pasting to complete the online form, then attaches the document she prepared. The submit button is standard design, circa early 2000s, but as the mouse arrow hovers over the icon, she glances over her shoulder.
I give a slight nod, urging her forward.
There’s a global human trafficking ring operating with cover from US officials. There’s no going back on this. We need to root out the corruption.
The faint click of the mouse feels loud.
A spinning wheel appears.
It’s like watching a fuse burn.
I brace—not for what’s to come once she arrives at the confirmation page, but for her reaction to what happens next.
At the airport, she questioned whether we needed to share a ride. Then asked if I was coming back with her. Not “to” her place—“with” her.
I didn’t give her a choice about the ride—more fuel on a fire.
The confirmation screen loads. Evie takes a screenshot of the page with the confirmation number and prints it for her records.
“Done,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t address the suitcase downstairs or what happens now.
“You mind if I use this office to call the team?”
“Feel free. I’m going to get a quick shower. Get the plane off me.”
It’s been one long travel day.
She stands, moves past me—careful not to touch—and disappears into her bedroom.
The door closes.
Not an invitation. Not a dismissal.
Just...closed.
I pull out my phone and dial Hudson.
“It’s done. The complaint is filed.”
“Copy that. I’ve got Quinn here. We’re monitoring communications.”
“Yeah, about that. Evie wasn’t so thrilled that we leveraged ARGUS. We have to keep in mind what we find through that isn’t admissible—unless we find workarounds to the information.”
“We’re just using it to see who talks to who. Our list of suspects is growing. Also, Rhodes came through with an FBI resource we can trust.”
“He’s positive?”
“He is. We’ll wait a beat until it’s necessary to call on him,” Hudson says.
“He’s from the corruption unit,” Quinn offers. “Special Agent Asbury. Rhodes believes in him, but he did survive the mass cutting of the department.”
“So you don’t trust him?”
“When a group like public corruption gets decimated, one has to wonder about the ones who remain,” she says. “But there’s no connection to Meridian—that I could find.”
“We’ll set up a meeting with Evie,” Hudson says.
The mention sets me at attention. “The whole team is on this, right?”
“You asking for round the clock security?” Hudson asks.
“At a minimum. But I’m expecting a lot more than that.
When you pitched KOAN to me, you said we’re looking to identify corruption that flies below the radar.
To get the people that believe they’re above justice.
Well, this is the case. It’s a human trafficking ring.
The worst of the worst. And yes, some of the players aren’t stateside, but US officials are providing cover.
Let’s use our resources. Find them all. Nail them.
” Because if even one of them comes after her again—
“We’re all in,” Hudson says.
“And we’re making headway,” Quinn says. “But we need to start narrowing our list of suspects.”
“Agree,” I say, breathing a little easier with Hudson’s reassurance. “Who’s on the list?” They’ve been working while we’ve been traveling. I’m curious to see what they’ve found.
“Senator Julian Ward,” Quinn says. “He’s a senior senator. Sits on some prized committees. And he was close with Elena Vasquez, the former chief of staff.”
“That was Brie’s case, right?” Brie traced an extortionist business straight to her doorstep, and rather than face prosecution, Vasquez offed herself.
“That’s right,” Quinn says. “Brie’s all in on researching this lead. And it’s worth exploring. Ward’s been a vocal opponent of expanding FBI trafficking investigation resources, and interestingly, also a proponent of curbing illegal immigration. And he’s got documented shadiness.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s cut deals in the past with media outlets to keep his son’s extracurriculars out of the paper.”
“Extracurriculars. Meaning?”
“Drugs. Driving. All kept out of the paper and no charges filed, but rumors are rampant,” Quinn says.
“Qualifies as a Person of Interest.” I jot down notes for Evie. “Who else?”
“Well, some on our list are by virtue of position. No evidence. Rebecca Hanford,” Quinn says.
“Evie’s boss.”
“She authorized dropping the case.”
“So at the very least someone gave her an order and she complied,” I say.
“In her position, compliance is corruption,” Quinn says. “Then there’s Brian Vrell. He’s the DHS official that signed the transfer. Evie found his name,” Quinn says.
“Right, but he’s not a leader in the operation.”
“I agree,” Quinn says, sounding a little too chipper for what we’re discussing. “It’s possible he even has limited knowledge. Maybe took a bribe and doesn’t even know who from.”
“That’s worth a prison sentence,” I say. One thing I know from my time in the military is that you need to rely on your team.
“We’ve got a host of Alpine Refuge Network contacts that we’re fleshing out further. And then there’s a Dahlia Evans,” Quinn says.
“She’s one we want you to tackle,” Hudson says.
“Me? Why?” The name sounds oddly familiar but I can’t place it.
“She’s a retired CIA colleague of your fathers,” Quinn says. “When I was investigating Meridian, her name came up, and I saw the connection to you. She signed your recommendation for Military Intelligence Officer training.”
That’s why it’s familiar. Mom called in a favor for me.
“Why do you think she’s involved?”
“She might not be. She’s retired. But she’s done a lot with Meridian. Worked for them for a few years after she left the CIA. We thought you’d be our best chance at getting an insider’s view of Meridian—maybe you can get her to drop some power player names.”
Truth is, I’d like to reach out to more of my dad’s former colleagues. I’ve always viewed them as dead ends, given they won’t violate national security standards for a fallen officer’s curious son, but maybe if I build some relationships that could change.
“I’m on it,” I say. “Send me her deets.”
“It’s in the portal,” Quinn says.
Of course it is. Everything’s in the portal.
“Noah’s going to follow the DHS authorization chain,” Hudson says. “I’ve got Jake coming out to assist with security. And Syd is working the Rebecca Hanford angle.”
“On your suspect list, let’s add Special Agent Daniel Price.”
“What have you got?” Hudson asks.
“A hunch. Nothing more. Evie showed up to meet him at a black site and then there’s a drive-by shooter when she’s exiting the building—it’s suspicious.”
“He’s added,” Quinn says. “But he’s on a different project. Under cover. Likely hard to locate.”
“How do you—”
“We have our sources. If Evie’s touchy about that, best you don’t know.”
Fair.
“We’re working on getting a meeting for Evie and Brie with the senator.”
“Evie needs to go?” We have a team for a reason.
“She’s our best in,” Quinn says. “Her father is a big donor.”
“Copy that.” I suppose you’ve got to use your connections. The senator’s an octogenarian. He’s not going to be dangerous—in a case like that, the danger is in who he hires. “I’m going to change the locks on Evie’s home and install monitoring.”
“Loop me in,” Quinn says.
“Will do.”
The office door opens, and Evie enters, hair towel dried, skin flush, dressed in sweats and a zipped hoodie with frayed edges. Comfort wear.
“You’re installing monitoring?” she asks.
“Quinn, Hudson, Evie just joined us.” I offer her a slight smile, seeking her eyes but she drops her gaze to the phone on the desk.
“Hi guys,” she says.
“Hi, Evie,” Quinn says. “In an abundance of caution, Gabe mentioned he’s going to change your locks, and we’ll do basic outdoor surveillance. Nothing too invasive.”
I admire Quinn, because she can’t even see Evie’s expression, but it’s like she knows this needs some sweetener.
Evie’s gaze drops to my notepad. “I’ll have Gabe catch me up.”
I’m about to suggest I read back everything for confirmation which will also serve to bring her up to speed when her front doorbell rings.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
She shakes her head slightly, like she’s thinking about it.
“We’re going to jump,” I announce to Hudson and Quinn. “I’ll check the portal for updates.”
Evie heads down the stairs and I jog after her, blocking the door from opening as she twists the handle.
“Step back,” I growl.
She obeys.
I crack the door.
A suit in a black overcoat peers into the crack.
I lack a good view of his waist, but he’s white collar. Clean cut. Polished shoes. Soft hands.
I open the door wider, on my toes, on the ready.
“Can I help you?”
Evie peers around me.
“Michael. What are you doing here?” He looks at me, and she waves me off. “Ignore him. Come on in.”
She opens the door wider, allowing him entry into her living room.
It’s evening, and it’s cold outside, so I shut the door to keep the cold air out.