Rachel finds me on the back patio later, scanning the desert landscape for potential threats or approach routes. Lucas's laughter echoes from somewhere inside the house, probably exploring rooms and staking claim to whichever one appeals to him most.
"How bad is this really?" she asks without preamble.
I consider offering comfortable lies. Consider telling her the situation is manageable, that we have robust defensive protocols, that the Committee is simply probing for weaknesses.
But she deserves honest assessment.
"Bad," I say bluntly. "They're not just hunting Lucas. They're systematically threatening anyone who might corroborate his testimony or help you hide him. Your coworkers. Your friends. Anyone in your network."
Her face loses color. "My coworkers. My friends."
"Kane's coordinating protection details for everyone we can identify in your circle. Sarah's managing logistics, reaching out to warn people and implement security measures." I turn to face her directly. "But the Committee deploys resources and personnel faster than we can establish protective coverage. They have institutional advantages we can't match."
"So what's our actual tactical option?"
"Right now? We remain here. We keep Lucas secure. We wait for Tommy to finish constructing identities that can't be traced through any database." I pause deliberately. "But long-term, we need strategic thinking beyond pure defense. We need to neutralize the operational threat."
"You mean targeting them directly."
"I mean stopping their game entirely. Stop reacting to their tactical moves. Start forcing them to react to ours instead."
My phone rings before she can formulate a response. Kane's name on the screen. I answer immediately.
"We have a situation," Kane says without preamble. "Sarah's team just made contact with Rachel's sister in Phoenix. Jennifer Hartley. She's shaken up. Says someone broke into her house last night while the family was out."
I put the call on speaker so Rachel can hear. "What happened?"
"Clean entry, no forced locks. Nothing stolen, but they moved things around. Personal items. Family photos rearranged. Her jewelry box opened but untouched. They left Lucas's birthday card to her on the kitchen counter." Kane's voice is grim. "Classic psychological warfare. They wanted her to know someone was there, that they can reach her anytime."
Rachel goes completely still beside me.
"Sarah gave her a secure number to reach you," Kane continues. "She's holding for the handoff now. Wanted to make sure you were secure before connecting the call."
"We're secure. Put her through."
There's a click, then a woman's voice, tight with fear. "Rachel? Are you there?"
"I'm here, Jen." Rachel's voice is remarkably steady. "Are you okay? Is everyone okay?"
"We're scared. Mark wants to call the police, but what would we even tell them? Nothing's missing. No damage. Just... someone was in our house, Rachel. In our bedroom. They touched our things." Her sister's voice cracks. "And they left Lucas's card out where we'd see it. Like they were saying they know about him. Know he matters to me."
Implication hangs between us, heavy and unmistakable.
The Committee isn't just hunting Lucas anymore. They're sending clear messages to Rachel. To me. To anyone who believes they can successfully protect witnesses from institutional retaliation.
They're demonstrating that nowhere provides safety. No one remains untouchable. They can walk into your sister's home, touch her belongings, prove they know every detail of her life. And there's nothing you can report to the police that won't sound paranoid.
I pull out my phone and text Kane:
Need immediate protection detail for Rachel's sister. Phoenix. Family of four.
His response is immediate:
Already coordinating. Dylan's en route. ETA two hours.
Rachel's still on the phone with her sister, her voice calm and reassuring despite the fear I can see in the rigid set of her shoulders. "Jen, listen to me. The people I'm with are sendingsomeone to help. His name is Dylan. He'll be there in a few hours. Until then, I need you to stay inside, keep the doors locked, and don't let anyone in except him. He'll use Dad’s nickname for you?"
"Jellybean." Her sister's voice wavers.
