Except this time she's searching for something different. Not damage. Evidence.
"His name is Rookie." I tuck my feet under me on the couch. "Well, it's not his real name. It's his road name. He's in a motorcycle club."
Her eyebrows lift. Not alarm. Processing.
"He's the one who got me the job at Backroads. He sits next to me in statistics and he's terrible at math and he borrows ridiculous pens to make me laugh."
The corner of her mouth twitches.
"He knows about Dad." I swallow. "He knows about Halstead. About the name change. About all of it."
She goes still. The Hallmark movie fills the silence with orchestral strings and dialogue about Christmas decorations.
"And?" Her voice is careful.
"He didn't flinch." My voice cracks on the word. "He looked at me and said my father's crime isn't mine, and he meant it, Mom. He's the first person who ever meant it."
Her eyes fill. She sets her tea on the coffee table and pulls me into a hug so tight my ribs compress.
"Good." She says it into my hair, her voice thick. "Good."
We stay like that for a long time. The Hallmark movie reaches its resolution. The woman gets the man. The snow falls. The credits roll.
My mother pulls back and holds my face between her palms. Her eyes are wet but her expression is fierce.
"You deserve someone who doesn't flinch." She brushes my hair behind my ear. "You've always deserved it. And I've been waiting a long time to see you find it."
I sleep in the guest bed. She sets a glass of water on the nightstand, like she did when I was a little girl.
Things feel different now, like I’m not weighed down by stress.
And honestly, it’s about damn time.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rookie
Krypton slides a flash drive across his desk at seven in the morning.
"Everything's on there." He leans back in his chair, arms behind his head. "Access logs, proxy traces, the Clarksburg IP resolution, the utility records. Every piece of evidence tied together with a bow."
I pick up the drive. It's small enough to fit in my palm.
Weeks of work, compressed into a piece of plastic and metal no bigger than my thumbnail.
"Skaggs is in the wind." Krypton drops his arms and reaches for his coffee. "Wiped the Maple Street house clean. Landlord says the rent was paid through the end of next month, but the place is empty."
I turn the drive over in my fingers. "And Sarah?"
He shakes his head. "Nobody's heard from her since the Backroads blowup. Phone's off. Car's gone from the compound lot."
I turn the flash drive over in my fingers.
Sarah Boyd, who took a bullet for this club, is gone.
Cody Skaggs, who spent weeks gutting the club's network with credentials she gave him, is gone.
Two people who should be in separate rooms being dealt with separately are now together somewhere, and the club doesn't know where.