"Good. We're leaving tomorrow."
Paperwork takes hours. Legal aid walks me through forms. I sign everything without reading the fine print. Temporary guardianship, emergency placement authorization, medical consent. Whatever keeps her out of the system and under my protection.
Miller pulls me aside while Jennifer helps Traci gather her things. "We've coordinated with Sheriff MacAllister. He's expecting you in Glacier Hollow. Lodging's arranged. Dr. Helena Sage has already been briefed on Traci's medical needs."
"Threat assessment?"
"Unknown. We pulled her from a secondary house, not a primary location. Can't confirm if she had direct contact with leadership. But we can't assume she's not a target."
"Understood."
He hands me a satellite phone. "Direct line to my office. Any problems, you call."
I pocket it and head to where Traci stands with Jennifer and Rebecca. Small backpack in her hands. Everything she owns fits in one bag.
"Ready?"
She nods.
Hotel near the airport. Miller arranged a room for the night. We fly to Glacier Hollow at first light. Two beds. I take the one by the door. Traci sets her backpack on the other bed but doesn't unpack. Just sits there.
"When's the last time you ate?"
She holds up five fingers.
"Hours or days?"
She shrugs.
I call down to the desk. Order food. While we wait, Traci pulls out a notebook and pen. Writes something, hands it to me.
Why did you come?
"You're family."
She takes the notebook back. Writes again.You don't know me anymore.
"Doesn't matter. You needed extraction. I'm here."
She studies my face. Deciding if I'm lying. Then writes one more line.
Thank you.
Two words. They shouldn't hit this hard, but they do. I don't respond, just meet her stare.
Food arrives. She picks at it but gets some down. Better than nothing. She falls asleep early, still dressed, curled on top of thecovers ready to bolt. I grab a blanket from the closet, drape it over her without waking her.
Then I pull a chair to the corner where I've got sight lines to both the door and the window. Old habits. Position where I can monitor the entry point and watch the parking lot. Making sure nobody tracked us here.
Threat assessment. Vehicles scattered across the lot when I first sit down. I count them, log positions, note which ones have drivers inside. A sedan several rows back with condensation on the windows. Occupied but stationary. Could be nothing. Could be surveillance. I watch it.
Headlights sweep across the lot every few minutes. I track each one until it parks or passes. Memorize plate numbers. Watch for patterns. Anyone circling. Anyone sitting too long.
The wind picks up around midnight. Tree branches scrape the building. My hand's on the knife before I register what made the noise. Years alone means I'm not adjusted for civilization anymore. Too many sounds. Too many angles. Too many places for problems to hide.
Behind me Traci makes a sound in her sleep. Small and trapped.
I turn enough to check without leaving the window. She's curled tighter, face pressed into the pillow, breathing too fast. Nightmare running its course.
