"When Ghost lost his charge the first time—" Remington began.
"Thefourthtime, in her case," Ghost corrected with a trace of irritation.
"—his adversaries had an escape route planned. It was a public function. One room, multiple exits, and they coordinated their attack and timed it precisely." Remington looked like he was describing a game playback, all enthusiasm and fervor. "So, it stands to reason, that if we assume these people would try to apprehend Evelyn in a weak location, then we can plan ahead of time."
"And ultimately catch one or more of them," Ghost finished. "Ideally, this will lead my team to the root organization and we can neutralize the threat to Evelyn's safety for good."
"Catch one of them, how?" I asked suspiciously.
"Originally, I saw that you had a gala event on Saturday and considered doing it there," Ghost began. I wasn't even going to ask how he'd gotten access to my personal calendar, but then he continued. "But there were too many weak points of entry for them. I've reviewed Evie's property, and there is one particular weak spot in the north quadrant, past an open field where there's an abandoned barn. I like the look of it—they'll be tempted, and I can control it." Ghost shared a satellite image of Evie's land on his screen. A spot far from the houses was circled in red. "They'll go for her if they think she's frequenting that location."
Evie looked up in thought, and her lower lip jutted out. "That sounds dangerous for you, though."
Ghost looked close to laughing. "Sure. Very dangerous."
"I think what Ghost means to say is that he's had years of experience doing these kinds of things," Remington said with a charming smile. "You don't have to worry about him."
"It sounds dangerous forEvie," I countered, scowling.
Ghost remained unperturbed. "I'll be calling in a full team to assist in the sting. I assure you, she will be completely surrounded by well-trained professionals. All we need is one of their operatives in custody, and we can take it from there."
"And you think this will stop them?" Evie asked, her hands clasped tightly together.
Remington nodded encouragingly. "G6 knows what they're doing when it comes to informants. They'll cut it off at the source so there will be no more game and no more danger to you."
"I'll be there in five days to coordinate with my team," Ghost said, glancing down at the newborn who was squirming again. "We'll make a plan and have you ready for Saturday."
Five days. Somehow, the most worrisome part of that sentence was that I only had five days of Evelyn to myself. I'd thought I had six, and one day short shouldn't have made a difference, but somehow it did. I swallowed against a dry throat and managed to nod. "Thank you for helping."
"Trust me, it's self-serving," Remington said with wry self-deprecation. "We want to nab these guys just as badly as you want them gone."
"Well, you're the experts, I think," Evie said with some reluctance. "If you think this will work."
"It'll work," Ghost replied confidently. "I'll be in touch soon."
Remington asked, "Any questions?"
I shook my head, and Evie echoed the motion. "We'll stay put on the farm until then," Evie promised.
"Alright, you two. Call if anything strange happens." Remington hung up the video call and I sighed, sitting back in my chair.
Evie and I shared a weary look. On instinct, I took her hand in mine, skimming my thumb over her knuckles soothingly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
She slumped in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. "It's better than involving the authorities, anyway."
I narrowed my eyes, squeezing her hand. "What is it with you and the po-po? You have a warrant out for your arrest or something?" As she breathed out a laugh, I added, "You stole those goats, didn't you?"
She grinned, rolling her warm hazel eyes over to me. "No, I didn't steal the goats." She sobered, and her attention strayed away in thought. "When my parents died, at first, it really was like they had just taken a long trip abroad. I missed them but it was hard to comprehend that they'd died. We had a funeral for them, and then these men in suits showed up to take me away from Nan. I don't think any of us understood what was going on—Nan was drowning in her own grief. We didn't realize they were the FBI until I was alone with them in a small room at the local police department."
Anger poured through my veins, hot and fast. "They interviewed you without a guardian?"
"Officially?" She quirked a brow at me. "No. Unofficially? It took four hours for a court-appointed child therapist to show up."
"Jesus," I scowled.
Her hand went cold and clammy in mine. "I think that was when I came to the realization that my parents were dead. In that little room with one light and pictures of their accident on the table. The FBI was convinced that my parents were killed. That it wasn't an accident."
"Why would they need to interview you about that?" I asked, trying to moderate my voice when it wanted to shake with fury on her behalf.
