Chương 3
“Sometimes.”
“And sometimes?”
“It makes people predictable.”
He looked at her.
“You think I’m predictable?”
“I think everyone is predictable when they are scared.”
The room became quiet.
Rafe looked away.
Tessa immediately realized she had touched something personal.
She had become good at reading injuries.
Physical ones were easier.
They had symptoms.
They had patterns.
Emotional wounds were harder because people often protected the thing hurting them.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
Rafe looked back.
“That’s a strange question.”
“You avoid questions you don’t like.”
“I answer questions I consider useful.”
“Exactly.”
A faint sound came from the hallway.
Someone laughing.
A nurse complaining about a printer.
A patient asking for water.
Normal hospital noise.
For a few seconds, the room felt separate from the rest of the world.
Then Rafe spoke.
“My father taught me that everyone wants something.”
Tessa waited.
“He was right.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It’s realistic.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That sounds like something someone says after being hurt enough times.”
Rafe did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Tessa closed the folder.
“Your father?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
The simplicity of it bothered him.
Most people apologized because they felt obligated.
She said it because she meant it.
There was a difference.
“My father built everything I have now,” Rafe said.
“That sounds complicated.”
“It was.”
“Was he proud of you?”
The question landed unexpectedly.
Rafe looked at the table.
“He was proud when I was useful.”
Tessa said nothing.
She had treated soldiers who carried entire wars inside their silence.
She knew when not to fill space.
After a moment, Rafe pushed the folder toward her.
“I need you to look at something else.”
She opened the last page.
It was a photograph.
Not of documents.
Not of money.
Of June.
Taken three days earlier.
She was standing outside a small community center, holding a box of supplies.
Behind her was a man in a gray jacket.
His face was turned away.
Tessa studied the image.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You hate saying that.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I don’t know something, someone gets hurt.”
The honesty surprised her.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Malcolm stepped inside.
His eyes moved between them.
Not suspicious.
Concerned.
“Boss.”
Rafe stood.
“What?”
“We found the driver.”
Tessa watched Malcolm’s face.
The answer was already there.
“He’s alive.”
Rafe’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“Where?”
“In a motel outside the city.”
“Why didn’t he call?”
Malcolm hesitated.
“He did.”
The room changed.
“What?”
“He called us six hours ago.”
Rafe stared at him.
“And?”
Malcolm looked uncomfortable.
“Your security team never received the message.”
Nobody spoke.
Tessa looked between them.
A missing call.
A missing driver.
A folder left behind.
A person who knew exactly what would make Rafe react.
The pieces did not fit yet.
But they were moving.
“Who had access to the security line?” Rafe asked.
Malcolm swallowed.
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“Mine.”
A pause.
“Elias.”
Another pause.
“Your sister.”
Rafe’s expression changed.
“June?”
“She was given emergency access after the last incident.”
Tessa watched the reaction.
Not anger.
Not suspicion.
Pain.
Because for the first time, the possibility was not just betrayal.
It was someone he loved.
“No,” Rafe said quietly.
Malcolm did not move.
“I’m not saying she did anything.”
“But you thought it.”
“I thought every possibility.”
“That is your job.”
“Yes.”
Rafe looked away.
Tessa saw his hand close into a fist.
Then slowly open.
A small movement.
A controlled one.
The kind of thing someone did when they were trying very hard not to become the person everyone expected.
“We find my sister,” he said.
Malcolm nodded.
“And the driver.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody touches June until I know the truth.”
Malcolm looked surprised.
Tessa noticed.
Rafe noticed her noticing.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because sometimes it’s true.”
For the first time, Malcolm almost smiled.
Then his phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
The color left his face.
“Boss.”
Rafe looked at him.
“What now?”
Malcolm turned the phone around.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
There was no text.
Only an image.
Tessa stepped closer.
The photograph showed June Calder sitting in a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
And beside her was a handwritten note.
The note had four words.
Stop looking for me.
Rafe stared at the image until the screen went dark from Malcolm’s hand shaking.
“Show me again.”
Malcolm unlocked the phone.
The photograph returned.
June was sitting in a wooden chair with her wrists tied in front of her.
Her face was pale, but her eyes were open.
She was not unconscious.
She was not injured.
That almost made it worse.
Tessa stepped closer.
“Can you tell where she is?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“No background details.”
“Look at the shadows.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Tessa pointed at the wall behind June.
“The light is coming from above and slightly left.”
Rafe looked at the picture.
“You can tell that from this?”
“I spent years learning what rooms people were trapped in.”
The sentence was quiet.
Too quiet.
Rafe looked at her for a moment, but he did not ask about those years.
Not yet.
“Anything else?”
Tessa studied the image again.
“The chair.”
“What about it?”
“It’s old.”
Malcolm frowned.
“You can tell that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The damage on the wooden arm.”
She zoomed in.
“There are scratches from repeated use.”
Rafe moved closer.
“You think it matters?”
“I think whoever took her did not prepare this place yesterday.”
A silence followed.
The message had been meant to create panic.
Instead, Tessa was looking for what had been left behind.
That was the difference between fear and observation.
Rafe picked up his phone.
“I’m calling him.”
“Who?”
“The person who sent this.”
Malcolm immediately shook his head.
“Not a good idea.”
“Why?”
May you like
“Because that is what they want.”
Rafe looked at him.
