Intent.
That’s the key to everything.
I look at the map spread across the wall.
The clinic.
The utilities.
The tavern.
Each one a piece of a larger pattern.
“You’re going to get them,” I say.
The line goes quiet.
Then the voice speaks one last time.
“Careful, Mr. Rossi.”
“Why?”
“Because the people you’re exposing…”
“They’re used to winning.”
The call disconnects.
I sit there for a long moment.
Then look back at the map.
For the first time since this started…
I allow myself one breath of something like hope.
73
The Mother
Rourke Hale is efficient.
He is disciplined.
He is precise.
But he is not personal.
Which is his flaw.
I think in pain.
I watch the reports from Eagle River with mild interest.
The girl is too calm.
My son is too confident.
