He didn’t say anything. Just caught her eye across the room and gave a single, subtle nod.
Confirmed.
Jo’s expression didn’t change. She gave the slightest tilt of her head—acknowledgment—and went back to her paperwork.
But her mind was racing.
Someone inside the department was monitoring searches related to the Binding Chain. Actively deleting evidence. And the most likely candidate was sitting fifteen feet away, staring at his computer screen like a man waiting for the executioner.
Wyatt.
She watched him for a long moment. The exhaustion. The fear. The way he jumped every time his phone buzzed.
She needed answers. But she couldn’t get them here—not with Keller and Shaw circling and whatever pressure Wyatt was under making him skittish as a hunted animal.
She needed to get him alone. Somewhere he couldn’t run. Somewhere they could talk without the walls listening.
Jo pulled out her phone and typed a message.
Need to talk. Holy Spirits. Tonight. Just us.
She hit send and watched Wyatt’s phone light up on his desk.
He picked it up. Read the message. His face went through something—surprise, fear, resignation—before settling into something that looked almost like relief.
Jo waited. The seconds stretched. Wyatt stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Then his reply came through.
Okay.
One word. It had taken him a long time to type it.
Jo put her phone away and went back to her paperwork. Tonight, she’d get the truth. One way or another.
Across the room, Wyatt set down his phone and stared at the wall.
Lucy pressed closer against his leg, whining softly.
The clock on the wall ticked toward evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Holy Spirits was nearly empty when Jo arrived.
The stained glass windows were dark now, no colored light to soften the edges. Just the dim glow of the bar lights and the faint smell of wood polish and old whiskey. A couple of regulars nursed drinks near the front, but the back corner was empty.
Mick was at the bar tonight, which wasn’t a coincidence. Jo had called him.
He caught her eye as she walked in, gave a barely perceptible nod.I’ve got your back, that nod said.Whatever happens.
Jo slid into the corner booth, her back to the wall, and waited.
Wyatt arrived ten minutes later.
He looked worse than he had at the station. His face was pale, shadows carved deep under his eyes. He paused just inside the door, scanning the room the way he always did—exits, threats, witnesses. Old habits from a life Jo was only beginning to understand.
When his gaze found her, something flickered across his face. Fear, maybe. Or relief. It was hard to tell.