“His audience is me,” I say.
His gaze flicks to me, steady. “Yeah. You.”
My skin goes weird and tight.
Henry at my window flashes behind my eyes.Such a smart little girl.
“You okay?” Bran asks.
“Stop asking me that,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying,” he says. “And I get that you need to keep moving, but we’re going to build in stops. Non-negotiable.”
“Yes,” I snap. “Congratulations, you win the Incredibly Observant medal.”
He doesn’t rise to it. Just rests his elbows on his knees, big hands hanging loose, voice softening.
“Look,” he says. “I know what it’s like to have your brain make crime scenes into crossword puzzles. You don’t have to prove anything here. You’re already on the team.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, heat prickling behind my eyes. “I’m trying to make sure nobody else ends up on those rocks because I was too scared to look. He came tomywindow, Bran. That’s not…random.”
Silence hums between us.
He doesn’t tell me it’s not my responsibility. I appreciate that almost more than the coffee.
“Then we use what you’ve got,” he says finally. “You do the part nobody else can—pattern, language, digital footprint. But we set lines, because your cousin will kill me if I let anything happen to you. You don’t engage with him directly if we can help it. You don’t bait him. Any contact goes through me or Brady first. That’s the deal, or I shut this down.”
I hate that he has the muscle to make that threat real. I hate that a small, exhausted part of me is relieved somebody’s willing to stand between me and my worst instincts.
“Fine,” I grumble. “No bait. No performance art. Just…data.”
“Good,” he says. “Now ask your friend how they know.”
I’m already typing, pushing harder.
placement how? speak clearly, i skipped mind-reading in school
A beat.
she was on the shelf
My stomach drops.
“What shelf?” Bran asks.
“Natural ledge halfway down the main Falls,” I say. “Big flat outcropping off the old viewing path. You used to be able to climb down to it before they closed that section.”
“Why'd they close it?” he asks.
“Three broken ankles and one concussion,” I say. “Tourists can’t read signs. You have to want it now. Which tracks with our boy’s general commitment to the bit.”
Bran rubs a knuckle along his jaw. “You see that shelf from the overlook?”
“If you lean,” I say. “Which people do, because humans love flirting with gravity.”
He nods once. “Thurston puts her where everyonealmostsees her. Someone finally does, calls it in, he’s already gone. Leaves behind a nice mental snapshot for you to chew on.”
“Forusto chew on,” I correct. “You’re here now. Welcome to the brain rot.”
