Bridget’s stomach dropped. She glanced at her coworker. “Hey, can you close up? I need to?—“
“Go.” Her coworker waved a hand, already reaching for the keys. “I’ve got it.”
Bridget untied her apron with fingers that didn’t feel quite steady and grabbed her jacket from the hook. Kevin was alreadypushing back out into the cold, and she followed, the chill hitting her the moment she stepped outside.
The parking lot behind the bakery was empty except for Kevin’s car and a rusted pickup that belonged to one of the regulars. Streetlights were flickering on in the fading light, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Their breath fogged in the cold air as Kevin led her to the corner near the dumpsters—out of sight from the street, out of earshot from anyone who might be passing.
“Kevin, what’s?—“
“Someone’s watching my searches.” His voice was low, urgent. “Not just watching. Actively deleting what I find. In real time. Files disappearing from my computer while I’m looking at them.”
Bridget’s blood went cold. “What?”
“The research I was doing. On the Binding Chain. On the symbol.” Kevin’s jaw was tight, his eyes darting to the street and back. “I was using a VPN, private browser, everything I could think of. But someone found me anyway. Someone with serious access. Serious skills.”
The words hit Bridget like a physical blow.They found him. They knew someone was looking.
“And here’s the thing,” Kevin continued, his voice dropping even lower. “I don’t think it’s coming from outside. I think it’s someone inside the department.”
Bridget stared at him. “Inside the?—“
“Wyatt.” The name landed between them like a stone. “Think about it. He’s got the tech skills. He’s been acting strange for weeks—jumping at his phone, lying about his mom, always looking over his shoulder.”
Bridget’s mind was racing. Wyatt. The quiet one, the tech guy, the one who’d always seemed a little apart from the rest of the team. If he was connected to the organization...
“Kevin.” Her voice came out strangled. “If Wyatt’s tracking your searches—if he’s connected to these people—does he know about me?”
Kevin’s face went pale. “That’s the other thing. That’s why I’m here.”
Something in his tone made her stomach drop further. “What do you mean?”
“Before the files started disappearing, I managed to save some fragments. Partial records. Most of it was corrupted or incomplete, but there was one document—looked like an internal list. Names, descriptions, notes.” Kevin’s hand found her arm, steadying her. “Bridget, your name wasn’t on it.”
Relief flickered through her for half a second before she saw his expression.
“But there was a description.” Kevin’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “Female. Late teens at the time of involvement. Auburn hair. Distinctive scar on the left forearm from a kitchen accident as a child. Ran with a crew in Portland before relocating to the Northeast. Participated in cleanup operations. Witness to leadership.”
The cold seemed to press in from all sides. Bridget couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Every detail was right. Every single one.
“That’s me,” she whispered. “That’s exactly me.”
Kevin nodded, his grip on her arm tightening. “They don’t have your name. They don’t have White Rock. But Bridget—they’re looking for you. The document was flagged as ‘active.’ Whatever that means.”
Bridget leaned back against the rough brick, her legs suddenly unsteady. All these years. All the work she’d done to bury that life, to become someone new. And they’d kept a file. They’d been looking.
“If Wyatt’s connected to them,” she said slowly, her mind working through the horror, “and he’s inside the department, with access to personnel files, background checks...”
“It’s only a matter of time before he makes the connection.” Kevin finished the thought she couldn’t. “If he hasn’t already.”
Bridget closed her eyes. The world felt like it was tilting. “We need to tell Jo.”
“I know. But if Wyatt’s dirty, the moment we tell her?—“
“She’ll confront him. He’ll know we’re onto him.” Bridget opened her eyes, looking at Kevin. “And he might warn them. Or worse.”
“And if we don’t tell her?” Kevin’s voice was gentle but firm. “If something happens to Jo because she didn’t know the threat she was walking into?”
Bridget could see it—Jo charging into something she didn’t understand, facing people who killed without hesitation, all because her sister and her friend had kept secrets. But now there was another image: Jo looking at personnel files, running background checks, finding out that Bridget matched a description in a criminal organization’s target list.