The second agent stepped toward him.
Randolph recoiled instantly. “Wait?—”
“Dean Randall Randolph,” the agent interrupted. “We recovered communications and financial records connecting you to William Kellerman dating back years. You are being detained pending investigation into your involvement.”
“You can’t seriously believe?—”
The agent grabbed his wrists.
Randolph’s composure cracked completely. “Get your hands off me!”
The outburst echoed through the café while the handcuffs snapped shut.
The agents hauled Otto toward the doors while rain lashed against the café windows hard enough to blur the world outside into shifting gray streaks.
Sweat darkened the collar of Randolph’s shirt while one of the agents kept a firm hand between his shoulders, steering him toward the exit as he sputtered half-finished arguments nobody seemed interested in hearing anymore.
SSA Chen stayed behind near the counter while another agent handed her a thick folder. Henry’s arm remained locked around my waist so tightly it almost hurt.
I didn’t ask him to loosen it.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure my legs worked without him holding me up anymore.
Chen flipped through a few pages before looking toward us. “We found enough to open everything back up.”
“Everything?” I repeated.
Her expression softened. “Cases like this are complicated. Networks like the one Ashford was tied to don’t disappear cleanly.” She tucked the folder beneath her arm. “It’s going to take time for my team to piece everything together properly, but Kellerman kept records. Financial trails. Communications. Names.”
I shuddered.
“We’re going to tie him to those missing boys,” she continued steadily. “And every file we pull apart gives us another lead, another person connected to this network. Men like him survivebecause nobody follows the thread far enough.” Her eyes sharpened. “We will.”
Beside me, Henry finally exhaled. “Thank you.”
Chen gave him a dry look while tugging on a pair of leather gloves. “Stay out of my database, Rothwell.”
A tired smile touched the corner of Henry’s mouth. “Not a chance.”
Agent Chen snorted softly under her breath before turning toward the doors, already pulling her phone from her coat pocket as she stepped back into the rain after the others.
My pulse still hadn’t settled correctly. Adrenaline buzzed painfully beneath my skin while overturned stools and abandoned coffee cups sat scattered around the café like evidence of a bomb going off.
Ohmygod.
I dragged both hands through my hair and turned in a slow circle like my brain suddenly had too many thoughts trying to occupy the same space.
“I have to tell Rhys. And my mom. Jesus Christ, my mom—” My stomach twisted again. “How am I even supposed to explain this? Hey, by the way, Mom, the neighbor who helped you shovel snow is actually a trafficker with two identities and an FBI investigation?”
The panic started trying to climb back up, fast enough that I barely realized I was spiraling until Henry caught my wrists gently.
“Later,” he said.
I looked at him.
Rainwater still clung to the edges of his hair. There was murder in his eyes ten minutes ago, and now all I saw was him trying to hold me together carefully enough that I didn’t crack apart in his hands.
“Breathe, baby.”