I hit play.
The woman’s voice is calm, polished, practiced, like she trained for years to sound helpful while delivering threats. “We're calling to inform you that Minxy's communication schedule has been adjusted. She'll not be making her usual weekly calls or sending emails... for the foreseeable future.”
“Remind me again how you got these blueprints and badges to make copies of?”
He looks up at the ceiling, annoyed. “I had my friend at the building department send me the blueprints, and the psych teacher Minxy told Talon about, emailed me the photos of all the credentials we’ll need.”
“What’s in it for him?” I ask, wanting to double check we’re not walking into a trap.
“Apparently Penelope’s mom was his therapist. I got in touch and offered him cash and a way out. He, however, said he’d do it for Penelope. Apparently, her mom helped him and was there for him when he needed it. He did take me up on the way out.He has an interview with the psych department at the university next week.”
I nod once and reopen the recording, letting the woman’s voice fill the room again. It’s worse the second time, colder now that I know exactly what she isn’t saying.
Gideon listens, shoulders going rigid, jaw tightening with each word.
When it ends, he pulls the laptop toward him and drags the audio file into a labeled archive folder: “SHI – Evidence 07.”
“They always pull communication before they move a student,” he says quietly. “Every facility like this does it. They call it ‘therapeutic distancing.’ It’s isolation. Pure and simple.”
“Or preparation,” I mutter. “Cut the lines. Close the exits. Make the kid compliant.”
Gideon’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. “You think they’re accelerating?”
“I think they’re scared,” I tell him. “And scared people make sloppy decisions.”
For a moment we don’t speak.
My phone buzzes again.
Talon: Coming back with Penelope.
Another buzz.
Talon: Promise me Minx will be home tomorrow.
Gideon reads over my shoulder. “He’s unraveling.”
“He has every right,” I say. “But he can’t show it.”
Gideon leans back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We need him steady tomorrow. If Abi gets even a whiff that he’s off, she’ll lock everything down.”
“And she’ll know he’s off the second he opens his mouth,” I say. “He’s not good at neutral.”
“I’ll talk to him when he gets here,” Gideon offers.
I shake my head. “No. Let Penelope handle the emotional side. He listens to her. You and I handle logistics.”
Gideon taps the blueprints. “Speaking of… there’s something off here.”
I lean over the map. “What?”
He points to the clinic’s west hall. “This camera angle. See how the feed cuts the corner? There’s a blind spot for about six steps.”
“That’s where we shift her out of the escort’s view,” I realize. “If we time it right, no one sees anything.”
“Exactly,” he says. “But timing it wrong gets us flagged.”
“It won’t be wrong,” I answer. “I’ll be watching the guard’s posture. The escort’s stride. Every part of that hallway is predictable if you know how to read people.”
