Brad’s voice was dark. “Where is the site?”
“He never said,” she replied. “Only that it’s somewhere no one will admit exists. A place meant for erasing people.”
Alex’s tone softened, but the heaviness was there. “Did he say who runs it?”
“He calls them ‘the handlers.’ They aren’t military. Not officially. He said they take orders from somewhere above clearance levels.”
Brad muttered under his breath, “Off-the-books ops. No oversight.”
Alex exchanged a glance with Brad. “You think Gideon’s operation is back?”
Brad’s face was unreadable. “I think we’re already too late.”
Dr. Fields’s voice broke the silence, quiet but heavy with emotion. Her gaze dropped for a moment, then lifted, resigned and sad. “He’s alive,” she said softly. “I’m sure of it. I brought him here the morning his father passed away.”
She exhaled slowly, the weight of it settling in her shoulders. “I hid him when Charlotte Everhart came.” Her eyes flicked toward the window, distant. “He’s twenty-five now. A young man. One who’s been living in the margins since he was eighteen. He’s still out there…” She looked back at them, voice low, certain. “You won’t find him unless he wants to be found.”
Silence fell between them, then Brad straightened, stepping back. “Get the night nurse and the cellmate. Now.”
Fields nodded, eyes lowered.
Alex glanced at him. “You think the kid’s really out there?”
Brad’s face was stone. “I think we just found out who’s been stalking Charlotte. And I think we’ve only scratched the surface.”
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.”
