Page 23 of Only the Hunter

“Buzzkill.”

“What’s up? I’ve got a meeting in two.”

“Working man. Fine. Dad wants an update.”

The light catches on a small river-polished stone, smooth from years of handling. Out of habit, I pick it up and flip it through my fingers.

“She’s the one with the update. Ask her.”

“Is her car totaled?”

“I didn’t get the estimate.”

“Dad’s worried it’s someone she’s prosecuting. Did it look like that to you?”

I hesitate—only because I know Evie doesn’t want her dad to worry—or to interfere. But if it was my sister, I’d want to know.

“That’s what you suspect,” Scott says, proving he can still read me. “Should we be doing something to keep her safe?”

“She works in a highly secure building. And at home—if Evie would allow it, I could add a home security system. I’m not a huge fan of that back alley⁠—”

“Would you do that? The security system? Send whatever bill my way.”

“She has to agree.”

“No. Just do it. I can’t give Dad an update like this without a solution step in place. And if you put that security system in, can I tell him that you’re confident she’s safe? Dad’s gonna want your seal of approval.”

“A security system is a good first step. But you can’t install it without her agreement.”

“I’ll talk to her. And speaking of talking, when were you going to tell me you moved here?”

My neck itches and I scratch it. “Move happened pretty fast.”

“Let me guess. It happened shortly after I asked you to look into what she’d gotten herself into.”

The screen comes to life and a woman with long, curly blond hair and glasses midway down the bridge of nose fills the video screen—Quinn.

“Or is it coincidental timing?” There’s a not-so-subtle dig there—but I don’t have time to deal with it.

“My meeting’s starting.”

“We can talk later.” There’s a pause, and I hold my breath, carefully still since my image is seen on the video call by the team. “Gabe? Look, I know you have my sister’s interest at heart. She’s basically your sister too.” I set the stone down, flat on my thigh. “I appreciate this—you looking out for her. Later, man.”

Scott ends the call. I pick the stone back up and resume flipping it through my fingers. Scott picked up that I moved after he raised concerns about Evie—of course he did. But he’s not reading into it. There’s nothing to read into. I move when the work requires it. That’s all this is. As for not mentioning it—I move around. I’m not in the habit of announcing my moves—it’s not news that matters.

He’s right. I do care about Evie. It’s slightly annoying that Scott doesn’t step up more and look out for her too, instead handing it off like an assignment. But that’s the way it’s always been. When we were in high school, I was always the one reminding him to pick her up from after-school activities, oftentimes being the one who picked her up when it wasn’t convenient for him. When his dad was away on business, I was the one who remembered to go hunting for her in the house, to ask if she wanted to join us for dinner.

Once, I found her in the basement with a pile of rocks and a hand polisher, completely absorbed, like she was the only person in the world. What are you doing? She’d looked up—not startled, just unhurried—and said she was thinking about starting a business. I’d looked at the rocks and then at her, and didn’t say what I was thinking, which was that she could probably do exactly that if that’s what she wanted.

I still think that.

The idea of Mr. Thompson putting weight into my opinion is an unusual one. Growing up, he never had much to say—always stern and hard to read.

Additional squares fill the monitor now that Quinn has officially started the call.

Hudson Stone, KOAN managing director, assumes lead. Hudson doesn’t waste words. When he asks a question, it’s because he already knows half the answer.

Quinn Palmer, tech support, appears more focused on her keyboard than the meeting—because whatever she’s seeing matters more.