“While other agents workmycase.”
“Yes.” No apology in it. Just fact. “We have a full team on this. Good agents. They’ll find him.”
Claire looked away, fighting the burn behind her eyes. Five years of hunting predators. Every arrest for Lily. Every case closed because she wouldn’t let another family go through what hers had.
And now she was the victim.
“The contractor is Shadow Point Security,” Reeves continued. “They specialize in high-risk protection.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I won’t trust your life with anyone but the best.” Reeves shuffled several folders on the desk. “Their team leader is a former SEAL Commander, and I’m assured you’ll be in good hands.”
Great, a former SEAL. She’d worked with Special Forces before. They were more than competent but tended to treat civilians—even FBI agents—like fragile cargo. “When do I leave?”
“Tonight. A car’s waiting downstairs.” He must have seen the protest forming. “That’s an order, Agent Dawson.”
She stood there, hands clenched at her sides, every instinct screaming to fight this. But orders were orders.
“Can I at least work the case remotely?”
Reeves paused. “I'll keep you in the loop. You can review the case materials and provide input on the profile. But only from the Shadow Point compound, secure channels only.” His voice hardened. “If you compromise your location or security in any way, I will pull you completely. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Shadow Point’s contact information has been sent in an encrypted email. They’ll brief you on arrival.”
Claire turned to leave.
“Claire.” Reeves’s voice stopped her at the door. “We’ll catch him.”
She looked back. “Without me, it seems.”
“Just promise you’ll stay alive long enough for us to do it. Don’t make me attend your funeral. That’s an order.”
The words hung in the air. Claire nodded once and walked out.
She always kept a go-bag in her office. Along with that, she grabbed her laptop, case files, and the photograph she kept in her desk drawer of her and Lily as young girls, laughing at something long forgotten.
Before everything changed.
The black SUV was waiting where Reeves said it would be. Professional driver, silent and efficient. Claire climbed into the back seat and stared out the window as D.C. rolled past in the darkness.
She should stay, hunt this bastard, not run off to Montana.
But the memory came anyway. Always did when she thought about Lily.
The hospital. Her broken arm, a concussion, and her parents crying in the hallway. The detective asking what happened.
“He took Lily. I tried to stop him. She told me to run. I should have stayed. I should have?—”
“You did what you could, sweetheart. You survived.”
But Lily hadn’t.
Claire pulled out her phone, opened the case file she’d copied to her secure drive. Three victims. Three dead women who looked like her, who’d survived violence before, who’d fought back.
He was choosing survivors. Testing if they could survive again.
