Page 51 of Hunted in the Silence

He pulled into the narrow driveway at seven-fifteen with Brynn in the passenger seat and Finn following a block behind them in his own car, running a final check of the surrounding streets before he took off for the night. The house was dark except for the timer light in the front window. Cole sat for a moment with the engine off, scanning the street in both directions. Quiet. Ordinary. A man walking a dog at the far end of the block, heading away from them.

“Same drill as before,” he said. “Stay in the car until I check the inside.”

Brynn didn’t argue, which spoke volumes. The Brynn he’d met two weeks ago would have had something dry to say about it. Tonight, she just watched him go, her hands in her lap, her eyes moving over the street with the steady alertness that’d overtaken her back at BPD.

He cleared the house in a matter of minutes. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen and living area, a back door with a deadbolt and a chain. Everything exactly as it should be. He came back to the porch and lifted his chin, and Brynn was out of the car and up the front steps before he’d finished the gesture, her bag slung over one shoulder, moving fast and low without being told to.

Inside, he locked the front door and threw the deadbolt, and then turned to Brynn. Breathing hard, she stood in the small living room and looked around. He knew exactly what she was seeing. The generic furniture and the bare walls and the blankness of a space that had been designed to be nobody’s home.

“Second bedroom is yours,” he said, breaking the silence. “There’s a lock on the inside. Use it. I’ll be across the hall.”

She turned, her expression shocked. “You’re staying.”

“Yes.” Leaving her alone at this juncture was out of the question.

She held his gaze for a moment too long, and yet not long enough, and he knew she was deciding whether to argue with him or not.

He appreciated it when she chose not to.

“There’s food in the kitchen,” he said, lifting his chin that direction. “Bureau stock, so manage your expectations. But there’s coffee and the basics.”

“Coffee is the basics,” she repeated, monotoned.

He almost smiled, enjoying her wry sense of humor. Especially since he agreed completely. “I’ll make some.”

She set her bag in the second bedroom, and he heard the lock turn on the inside, exactly as he’d told her. He stood in the kitchen and filled the coffeemaker and listened to the house settle around him. While he waited, his thoughts traveled to Devlin’s note and the jacket and the ledger left behind like a calling card.

I don’t need it anymore.

The man who had operated for twenty years behind layers of careful distance had stripped all of it away was moving in a straight line toward one target. That made him more dangerous than he’d been when the investigation started. Desperate, yes. Reckless, possibly. But focused in a way that was its own kind of threat.

Cole thought about Brynn on the sidewalk. Don’t let him win this one. Whatever it costs.

The coffeemaker finished and as he poured two cups, he heard her bedroom door unlock and her soft footsteps in the hallway.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway in different clothes—dark sweatpants and a worn gray pullover, her hair down, the armor of the day traded for something gentler. She looked younger without the jacket and the boots. Not softer exactly. Just more visible, the person underneath the advocate more accessible, less on guard.

In short, he thought she was stunning.

Brynn looked at the coffee on the counter and crossed to it. She picked it up and wrapped both hands around it, bringing it close to her chest and breathing in the rich scent before she moved to stand at the kitchen window overlooking the dark backyard.

Cole leaned against the counter across from her and drank his own coffee, letting the quiet hang between them.

“He planned this,” she said, working it through out loud, the way she did when she was building something in her head. “The whole thing. The bust, the arrests. He let it happen.”

Cole frowned at her, though she didn’t see it. “You think he sacrificed the operation deliberately.”

“I think he made a calculation.” She turned from the window. Her dark-brown eyes were steady and focused. “The operation was exposed. Patricia Voss was a liability he’d been managing for a while, I’d guess. We already knew about Mario Teller and Webb. The whole operation was compromised.” She set the empty coffee mug down, an intensity in her eyes that arrested him. “A man like Devlin doesn’t fight a losing battle. He cuts his losses and redirects. The operation was already gone in any meaningful sense. So, he let us take it, walked out of that room, and now he has nothing left on his list except me.”

“That’s what Silas said.” His voice was faint, revealing the sinking feeling inside that haunted him from the moment those words left Silas’s mouth.

“Silas was right.” She paused to blow out a heavy breath and looked around the room, collecting her thoughts. “He’s been moving toward this for a long time. Since he found out I was in Blackridge. The operation was just a cover. A reason to be here without it being obvious that he came for me.” Her eyes captured his. “He was never going to run, Cole. Running would mean I won. He can’t accept that.”

Cole set his own cup down and took a moment to consider her words. When he reached the only feasible conclusion, he took a step closer. “Then we use it. A man who won’t run is a man who will come to us, and a man who comes to us is a man we can control the conditions around.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking.” She crossed her arms, not in the closed-off way but as if trying to hold herself together. A small shiver worked its way through her. “He’ll make contact before he moves. That’s his pattern. He did it with Dana Pryce, he did it with every girl who ever tried to get away from him. He needs the confrontation. He needs to look at me and see fear before he finishes it.”

The thought of it horrified him, but she was probably right. Just as she’d been about everything so far. “So he’ll reach out.”