They were still getting requests from the international task force to follow up on leads stateside. They had no idea how many girls were trafficked, and probably never would.
Dev shook his head. “She doesn’t fit the profile.”
Alec nodded. “Álvarez liked them young.”
Anna was almost thirty. Gaby’s age. She said, dry as ever, “So, basically ancient.”
Alec snorted.
Rhys brought her hand to his lips. “My old lady,” he murmured. “We can grow gray together.”
Gaby shot him a look. “You first.” But there was no actual heat in the comment as her fingers laced through his.
The tension in the room eased. Not gone but manageable.
Dev brought them back. “This isn’t Álvarez,” he said. “But it’s something. And I don’t like how it was handled.”
Leland didn’t either. Cases didn’t stall without reason.
“Callan stays on data,” Dev continued, moving on to assignments. “He’s digging into anything that connects—work, routine, social overlap.”
“I’ll start building out her network,” Gaby said. She’d been working closely with Rhys long enough now to think like a profiler. “Friends, coworkers, anyone she interacted with regularly.”
Rhys gave a small nod. “Patterns show up in the margins. Start there.”
Dev’s gaze shifted to Leland. “Stay flexible. We may need to pull you in once we see what this turns into.”
Leland inclined his head. “Understood.”
The meeting broke after that. Chairs shifted, everyone moving with purpose.
He reached for the file.
“Drop that by my office when you’re done with it,” Alec said before he walked out.
Leland nodded vaguely as he studied Anna Bellamy’s photo. She had the kind of profile predators noticed. Pretty. Living on her own. Late-night shifts. Limited support system.
Familiar in ways he didn’t like.
He slid the photo into the folder and snapped it shut. He had been seeing Julia in every blonde lately. This wasn’t about her. Thank God.
Chapter 7
By Tuesday morning, Callan looked the way Alec expected him to.
Terrible.
He sat in the middle of what appeared to be a technological crime scene. Monitors covered nearly every available surface. Lines of code scrolled across one screen while surveillance databases, missing person reports, and mapping software occupied the others.
Empty energy drink cans crowded the edge of the desk. A crumpled Snickers wrapper sat precariously on top of a stack of printouts. Callan himself appeared completely oblivious to both.
Paused in the doorway, Alec asked, “Did you go home?”
“No.”
Callan never looked up, and Alec wasn’t fully convinced he’d heard the question.
“Sleep?”
