Page 48 of Hunted in the Silence

Cole sat down, schooling his expression. “We’re listening.”

Patricia looked at the table for a moment. When she looked back up, her expression was filled with resignation. “The ledger,” she said. “You want it. I know where it is.”

The room had grown quiet.

“Devlin keeps a room,” she said. “Not here. A place nobody knows about except him and me, because I’m the one who set up the lease three years ago under an assumed name.” She paused, her lips pressing tight together. “It’s on the north side of Blackridge. Residential building, second floor. He stays there when he’s in town. The ledger is there.”

Cole glanced at Olivia. She was already writing in her notebook.

“Address,” Cole commanded.

Patricia gave it. Cole wrote it down and passed it to Carson, who was standing in the doorway, and Carson was on his phone before he’d made it fully out the door.

“He’ll be there now,” Patricia continued. “He has nowhere else to go. The operation is down, his people are in custody. He’ll be there figuring out what to do next.” She paused. “He doesn’t know I know about the ledger. He thinks he kept it from me. He didn’t.”

She looked almost proud of herself. Smug.

“Why are you telling us this?” Olivia asked with a heavy dose of skepticism.

Patricia looked at her hands again. When she looked back up, her expression had changed, the pretense she’d been maintaining dropping away. “Because I watched what happened in that building this morning. I watched those girls come out of a room I put them in.” She stopped, swallowed hard. “I’ve been telling myself for years that I was managing the situation. That I was making it better somehow from the inside. Making it safer.” Her jaw tightened. “When I saw those girls tonight, I understood that there is no version of what I’ve been doing that is anything other than what it is.”

It was as if everyone were holding their collective breaths, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Cole stood. “We’ll have the formal agreement drawn up within the hour. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere.”

He walked out into the hallway. Carson was waiting for him.

“Address checks out,” Carson said. “Residential building, second floor unit leased to a name that doesn’t exist. Building manager confirms someone matching Devlin’s description has been in and out for two years.” He looked at Cole, his stern brows knit together. “He’s there.”

Cole felt the deep stillness that had been building inside him for a long time come to a head. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment all their hard work would finally pay off.

“Get Dax,” he said, his tone dark. “And call Silas. I want him on the phone when we go in.” He turned back toward the conference room. “And get me Brynn.”

Carson raised an eyebrow.

“She’s not going in,” Cole assured him. “But she’s going to be nearby. After.” He held Carson’s gaze. “She’s waited years for this. She’s going to know the moment it’s done.”

Carson looked at him evenly for a long moment, and Cole knew he saw and understood more than he gave voice to. “I’ll get her,” he said.

***

The building Voss had pointed them to was a two-story walkup, brown brick, the kind of place that had been built cheaply and maintained indifferently. The kind of place where nobody paid much attention to their neighbors.

Dax cleared the rear exit in record time. Carson and Finn took the building entrance. Cole and two Bureau agents took the stairs.

Second floor. Third door on the left. It’d become a mantra in his head because nothing—nothing—was going to mess this up.

Cole pounded his fist on the door and shouted, “FBI! Open the door!”

Silence.

He nodded to the agent on his right. The door came open in one slam of his booted foot, clean and fast, and Cole was through it with his weapon up before the frame stopped vibrating.

The room was empty.

Not abandoned. Definitely lived in, recently. A jacket sat folded over the back of a chair. A coffee cup on the table, the liquid still faintly warm when Cole pressed the back of his hand to the ceramic. A window on the far wall stood open two inches, the chilly air moving the curtain.

He’d been here. An hour ago, maybe less.