She crossed the room and she was almost to the hallway when she heard Savannah, behind her, quietly and with great satisfaction, saycalled it.
Rampage was standing at the window in the meeting room's back wall, and he turned when she came in, and she thought for the ten-thousandth time since last night that he was very large and very still and both of those things were, against all reasonable expectation, deeply calming.
"Lucky heard from Phantom," he said. "His federal contact is picking up the Delling case. It's going above our level."
"Okay." She crossed her arms. "What aren't you telling me?"
He looked at her. A pause that was a fraction too long.
"Rampage."
"The profile is connected to two open missing persons cases out of Denver." Even. Careful. "Both women. Same method. We don't know yet if Delling is the primary or one of several."
Emily breathed through that. Let the shape of it settle. "So, this is a network."
"Possibly."
"And I fit whatever they were looking for."
"Emily—"
"I fit it," she said again. Not a question.
He held her gaze. "Yes."
She nodded. Looked at the floor. Back up. "So, what does that mean for right now? Practically. What does my life look like until this is resolved?"
"You stay in Grand Ridge. You don't go anywhere alone. You check in with me."
"Check in how often?"
"When you wake up. When you go somewhere. When something feels wrong."
"That's—" She tilted her head. Is it controlling if it’s for her safety? "That's a lot of check-ins."
"Yes."
"You know I'm an adult who has been managing her own life for?—"
"I know," he interrupted. "And right now your life has a threat in it that we don't have the full shape of yet. When we do, we'll reassess. Your safety isn’t negotiable, little girl."
She wanted to argue. The part of her that had been independent by necessity since she was nineteen, the part that paid her own bills and changed her own tires and cried in her car rather than in front of people had a full argument loaded and ready.
But there was another part. Quieter. Standing very still under all that noise. The inner voice she listened to when life got hard. The part of her that had longed for someone to come along and take over.
That part thought about waking up at four in the morning with her hands shaking and no one to call except Chloe who was already scared on her behalf, and she thought about how it had felt when he'd crouched outside her car window in that parking lot, and she thought aboutgood girlsaid in a voice that left no room for doubt. The little girls and baby pet names. She glanced down at his large, calloused hands and wondered what it would be like to be held in his strong muscular arms. She had a feeling if she asked, he’d open them wide and embrace her. She wasn’t ready for that yet. But staying here with him and the girls who’d already been so wonderful?
The logistics played in her head. How would she make her rent if she stayed gone too long? What would happen to her yoga studio? There was a woman she called who would step in forher when she got sick. She supposed she could call her. She’d have to pay her, of course. That would take money directly out of her pocket, money she didn’t have an abundance of. She could pick up a few more freelance bookkeeping jobs. But… what good would money do her if she was dead?
"Okay," she said.
Something in his face. That same barely-there shift.
"You're going to tell me,” he said slowly, "if something feels wrong. Not after the fact. Not when you've already handled it yourself. When it happens."
"Yes."
"I mean that, Emily."
