Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

“ O h, Tracey, this is… so many steps. Are you sure this is good for your leg?” His mother huffed a little as she ascended the flight into his living room and set her purse and roller bag to the side of his couch.

His smile was brittle. “When I bought the house, I figured the stairs would keep me in shape since I don’t have as much time to hit the gym.”

“That’s a good point, son.” Edward took off his hat and scarf, and piled them on his roller case, which he left beside his wife’s. He spun and took in the hardwood floors, the pleasant latte color of the walls, the deep red splash of the rug, the dark brown furniture. “This is a nice place. I like it. It’s comfortable.”

“It’s home.” Tracey took their coats and put them in the closet at the top of the living room steps. “I’ll show you upstairs to the guest room in a few minutes, but I thought we could have a cup of coffee and relax for a little while, talk about what you might like to do for dinner this evening.”

He hurried to the kitchen where he he’d filled the coffee maker with fresh grounds and water before he’d left to pick them up from the airport, so all he had to do now was hit the buttons to begin percolating. Retrieving mugs, he gathered the accoutrements of coffee his parents liked—milk, sugar substitute packets, and a spoon to stir—and set everything on a tray he’d purchased specifically for their visit. When the coffee was brewed, he poured, then took everything to the living room, ignoring the twinge in his leg and trying to limp as little as possible so as not to spill.

His parents were sat primly on the couch, and he set the tray on the coffee table, then took a seat on the adjacent love seat.

“How was your flight?”

“Full.” His father had been the one to do most of the talking since Tracey had met them at the airport. “But good. Your travel agent friend booked our tickets in the premium seats. Don’t ask me how.” Edward took a sip of his coffee while Caroline was still stirring hers.

“Because it’s what he does for a living, dear,” she said it fondly, and then appeared to remember she was trying to be awkward with Tracey. The animation dropped off her face and she went back to blank.

Other than asking why he hadn’t picked them up in his car—and she’d never liked the Mustang, so he’d been surprised—and then arguing over who would pay the Uber tab when he’d said he wasn’t allowed to drive yet, Caroline Smith had been remarkably quiet for having not seen Tracey in months. And for being in Washington D.C. for the first time in her life.

He’d expected a hug but hadn’t gotten one. There’d been no questions about the area or which restaurants were his favorite. No commentary about the trees or the weather compared to Minneapolis. Nothing about how much busier the traffic seemed. She hadn’t even made small talk with the driver.

Tracey wasn’t having this. “Is this how the week is going to go? Weird little glimpses of the mom I remember quickly covered up by the woman who seems disgusted by her son? Or are you even deigning to call me your son anymore?”

Caroline’s head snapped up. Edward set his mug down with an abrupt clack . “Tracey. That’s not what she—”

Caroline held up her hand to interrupt her husband. “No, Ed. I should answer that.” She turned her sharp-eyed gaze on Tracey. “You can presume what I’m thinking all you want, Mr. Behavioral Analyst, but you’d be wrong. However, I am still your mother, so you will respect me by not speaking to me in that tone.”

Tracey drew himself up to his full—if sitting—height. “And I am a grown man whose house you’re sitting in. You will not disrespect me in my home.”

Steely gaze against steely gaze, they glared at each other. Edward’s regard pinged back and forth between them until apparently he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Enough!” He all but bellowed the word as he came to his feet. “Do you know how hard this has been, being stuck between the two people I love the most while they tear each other apart? This ends now!” He rounded on his wife. “You need to talk to our boy. He’s our son and I don’t care what you have to do to find it in your heart and remember that, but you figure it out. Tell him what’s in that stubborn head of yours, or so help me, I will. And you.” He pointed at Tracey, his demeanor no less fierce but growing somehow softer. “Can you please set aside your assumptions for a few minutes to hear what she’s feeling? I know you feel rejected, but that’s not what this is. You're too close to this, but I promise you, it isn’t what you think.” He stomped to the closet, yanked out his coat, hat, and scarf, and declared. “I’m going to take a walk in this pretty neighborhood, and by the time I get back, you two have better sorted your shit out. Or I’m getting right back in a taxi and going back to Minneapolis. Alone !”

“Edward!” Caroline sounded scandalized.

“I mean it, Carol. Act like the adults you both are.” He glared at her, causing her to gasp and clutch at the delicate diamond pendant she always wore, an anniversary gift from him that he periodically upgraded the stone in when he could afford it.

The slam of the door punctuated the silence left in his wake.

To see his father so upset deflated Tracey’s anger. Had he really not been listening? Then he remembered his conversation with Gray. Slumping his shoulders, he reached for his coffee and gulped to wet his dry throat.

“Mom, I do not want things to be like this between us. I love you. But Dad’s right that I feel rejected. I am incredibly hurt by the things you said, and I am trying really, really hard not to feel like you’ve written me off for not being straight.” He couldn’t look at her, so he added a splash of milk to his coffee, even though he didn’t exactly like it that way. But it gave him an excuse to stir and stir and not meet her eyes.

She scooted to the far edge of the couch, as if she were putting distance between them.

At that, he did look up, and tears sprang to his eyes. “Really?”

“I’m getting a tissue, Trace. For chrissakes!” She hid her face from him while she rummaged through her purse on the floor and came up with a travel pack of tissues. Her hands shook as she pulled one free and blew her nose. “My family is falling apart, and I’m allowed to feel a certain way about it.”

“Your family is not falling apart, Mom.”

“That didn’t sound like falling apart to you? Your father threatening to leave me here and go back to Minneapolis alone?” She blew her nose again, her cheeks splotchy and red. Her honey blonde hair, which she’d always kept in a neat bob, didn’t stray, but he noticed how close to silver-blonde it was now. There were bags under her eyes he didn’t remember seeing before. If he was honest, she seemed more frail than he could recall ever her being.

“No, it sounded like a man frustrated at being caught between the two most stubborn people he’s ever known.” He tried to shake the sadness, but it wasn’t easy. “Look, Mom. I just opened up to you. Again. Told you how hurt I am by your reaction to my coming out, and you haven’t said anything. And, if you’ll let me speculate for a minute, I think I know why.”

She snorted. “Oh, this’ll be good.” Finally, her teary, red-rimmed blue eyes—eyes that mirrored his—connected. “Tell me why you think this is happening.”

He smiled sadly. “You’re scared. Every hobby I had or job I did that wasn’t completely safe, you hated until you got used to it. When I got on the police force in Springfield, you flipped your shit.”

“Language!”

At this, he narrowed his eyes. “Mother, I am a twenty-eight-year-old man. If I want to curse, I’m going to. Especially in my own home.”

She huffed and puffed, pursed her lips in disapproval, but finally dipped her chin in acquiescence. “Fine. But just know I don’t like it, so if I may request , please keep it minimal around me.”

He gritted his teeth. “Noted.” With a deep breath, he went on. “I do get it, though. Or I’m trying to. I just got the job I’ve been telling you I wanted since I chose my degree, and you tried to be happy for me. You did a pretty good job, too, and I love you for that. Then I got shot in the first month.” He tried to smile, but it was dry and withered. “Not the most auspicious beginning, was it?”

Her pursed lips relaxed marginally. “No.” Again, she dipped her chin in acknowledgement. “I was terrified for you . ” With a deep breath of her own, she now bored her gaze into his. “You’re not wrong. I am scared. But, you’re not one-hundred-percent correct about how I’m feeling about all of this.”

“Okay.” He sat back and folded his hands in his lap, ready to hear it. “What am I missing?”

She didn’t seem ready to spill this secret, working her jaw, her gaze wandering around the room as though finding other things to comment on would save her.

“Mom, Dad will be back soon. We don’t have a lot of time.” The reminder was gentle, but if Edward saw them talking when he returned, he’d give them however much time they needed. If she had her way, she wouldn’t tell him what he really, really needed to hear. Caroline Smith was a champion at deflection, and he couldn’t let her do it any longer.

“You’re not the same person you were.” She finally snapped.

He raised a brow. “That’s true. I’m very much not the same person I was. But compared to when?”

Caroline sighed and seemed to let go of some rigidness. “Every parent knows when they have a child, they’ll someday have to let that child grow up and fly the nest. It’s just… a lot harder than it looks. When you left for the college, I was so proud of you. When you told us you were getting a psychology degree, again, I was proud.” She smiled and regarded him at last, her eyes shiny. “I told my friends my son was going places. I felt like I had done my job raising you well.”

Tracey blinked. “Have I somehow taken that away from you?”

“Hush, son, and let me talk.”

“Sorry.” He blinked at how easily old patterns emerged, her admonishing him and his immediate deference. But she’d called him son, and it warmed his insides. The bleakness in his chest shrank.

“Then you said you were going into law enforcement with the intention of getting into the FBI. Of course I got scared, but then I thought, ‘Psychology. There’s probably a job with the FBI that doesn’t involve running around with a badge and a gun when you have a psychology degree. That’s probably what he wants.’ I didn’t know anything about Behavioral Analysis or chasing serial killers and whatnot. I had myself talked into the FBI being safe for you.” She wrung her hands together in her lap. “I see now that I buried my head in the sand. Because when you started fulfilling the requirements to get the job, joining the Springfield police department, then the Champaign resident agency, the reality hit me. No matter what they call you, you’re a police officer.

“I see the news, Tracey, and we’re from Minneapolis. We lived through George Floyd’s murder and the aftermath. I know how police are regarded these days. You can tell me you’re in a different field, that you’re mostly at a desk, but you still wear a badge and gun, right? Every step you’ve taken to get to where you are now, it’s one more step into that danger. Yes, your job terrifies me. That’s one thing.

“But I’ve been letting my only child go by degrees since the day you were born. Lately, those degrees feel bigger and bigger. The child I thought I knew keeps getting more and more distant. One day, you’re in a nearby state, but then the next, you’re halfway across the country. It’s not just about actual miles either. One day you’re dating the girl you said you’d like to marry, and the next, she’s no longer in the picture. Then you’re dating someone new, a man, no less. Then we find out he’s your boss. ”

She shook her head and turned to him, her hands fisted at the top of her knees, her posture so tight, he thought she might twang like a snapped guitar string. “These are the signs of a person I don’t know anymore. The Tracey I knew would never have compromised his ethics for something like this. For anyone, man or woman. It’s not just about your sexuality. I am still trying to wrap my head around that. It’s no small thing, because I’m scared for that life for you. But it’s also you risking so much for this relationship. You’ve worked hard for all you’ve achieved, and I don’t understand why you’d throw it all away for someone. Anyone.”

By now, she was pleading to understand.

It was as though a spotlight speared through a darkened theater and lit his mother up on a stage. He could see and understand this perspective entirely. His father had been right. It wasn’t about rejection or bigotry. He’d dedicated years of his life preparing for this career. And he knew the same was true for Jon. They were risking a hell of a lot.

“Okay.” He nodded and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Okay, Mom. This makes a lot more sense. I’ll even give you that it took some time to find the words behind these feelings. But it’s been weeks of the silent treatment, and I didn’t deserve that. We can talk about what you don’t understand, but before we get into that, you need to answer me one question. Why in the hell did you throw the ‘not a real family’ bullshit in my face? And I’m not taking that word back, because that is utter, complete bullshit meant to belittle me and make me feel small. It was absolutely not fair of you to say such a horrible thing to me.”

She sniffed and lowered her face. “I know. And I’m sorry, Tracey. I’m ashamed I said it.” With a sad head shake, she shuddered and blew her nose again. She kept talking, but to her lap. “For a long time, you’ve said you didn’t want children. I’ve always hoped you’d change your mind. Even when you and Lorna were still together, you told me over and over there was no intention. When you broke up with her, I hoped you’d meet someone who might change your mind. There’s a part of me that understands. You’re in a dangerous career, but also an unpredictable one that requires erratic hours. How fair would that be to your wife when you’re working all the time?

“But when you said you’re dating a man, especially another one also in law enforcement, the last shred of hope I had for grandchildren went up in smoke. I… reacted poorly. I don’t really believe what I said. If you were to choose to make a family, however that comes to be, I’d be over-the-moon happy for you.” Now, she did meet his gaze, and didn’t bother to hide the tears spilling down her cheeks. “But mostly, I want you to be happy. I don’t understand how a life without children can be as fulfilling, because that’s what fulfills me. I have you.” Her chin wobbled and her lips thinned as she fought her emotions. “I hope, anyway. I apologize, Tracey. I’m not turning away from you because of your sexuality. I’m just really struggling to understand the life you’ve chosen. Because it’s so out of the lines for what I pictured for you.”

He sat for a long moment, regarding her with a tight chest and a lump in his throat. Then, he moved the coffee table out of the way a few inches so he could stand and pull her up and into a fierce hug. She was so frail compared to how he remembered her.

“Mom, I love you. But you are going to have to get it into your head that I am an adult now, and my choices are right for me. Even if you disagree with them. If you really want me to be happy, that means understanding your version and my version of my life may look very different and accepting it anyway. The choices I’m making are my path to happiness.”

She clung to him and let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “You’re right. It’s just hard not to see you as my little boy.”

“I understand.” He pulled back and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve thrown a lot of change at you in the last six months. I could be a lot more patient and give you time to process things.” He pulled her into his chest again and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. Her arms around his waist were tight, like she was afraid to let go.

She turned her face to the side so she could keep speaking without breaking the hug. “And then you didn’t let me come help after your surgery and during your recovery. Now I find out you still can’t drive, and you won’t even let me pay for the ride here. Tracey, you can’t completely shut me out. I’m your mother. You have to let me fuss over you sometimes.”

He laughed, the sound a little watery. “You’re right. Jon helped with my recovery because that was easiest. My house was still full of boxes, and I wasn’t about to let you see such a mess. I do have some standards. But letting you pay for the Uber was not meant to be a power move. I did that because I knew it would be steep.”

The front door opened and closed, and then the footfalls on the stairs indicated Edward was back. “Oh, thank the Three Stooges and Marilyn Monroe’s ghost, you made up.” He topped the steps and hurried to their sides, wrapping his arms around both of them.

“Mostly.” Caroline turned her head to face her husband and lean into him. “I’m sorry for putting you in the middle of this mess, too.”

Edward’s jaw dropped. Probably because Caroline apologizing wasn’t a common occurrence. She did, though, when she knew she was in the wrong. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and squeezed tighter. “You’re my favorite people. Don’t ever do that to me again. Talk to each other next time.”

“We’ll try.” Tracey said it for them both, a hint of stern on his tone. “Right, Mom?”

“Right.”

They stood like that for a long time, sniffling and reacquainting, and then Tracey broke the hug. “You two sit. I can get you fresh coffees if you’d like, and we can do a tour of the house. Then we’ll talk about what you want to do while you’re here.”

When they were all seated again, with fresh cups, Caroline seemed hesitant when she spoke. “Can we meet him? Your… boyfriend?” The words sounded odd in her voice.

Tracey grinned. “He’s joining us as soon as I call him to come over.”

W hat Tracey hadn’t anticipated was Jon utterly charming Caroline’s socks off throughout the rest of the week. He’d joined them for dinner the first evening, and they spent the time getting recommendations for things to do while Tracey was at work.

With the case standing on the knife’s edge, Tracey hadn’t been eager to take time off. Edward and Caroline understood, especially given his recent medical leave. As such, they happily played tourist while he and Jon went into Quantico.

It was driving Tracey nuts, waiting for Smoldr to return FlyinHi’s app data, not knowing if he was out there, chatting up the next victim, planning the next hookup.

Sarena kept the team busy with the File Pile. They followed up on questions from jurisdictions throughout the country, lending assistance where they could in ways that didn’t require too deep a dive.

Tracey had a physical therapy appointment, followed by a doctor visit the day before Thanksgiving. He got his first platelet-rich plasma shot in his calf, and while the doctor warned him it might take several rounds before any discernible improvement could be measured, he’d like it if Tracey kept notes while they trialed this treatment.

It felt good to be doing something proactive rather than just exercise that didn’t seem to gain much ground.

He explained the plan as best he could to his parents, who seemed worried but hopeful. Jon met up with them that night and began the overnight preparations for the next day’s big cooking extravaganza.

While Tracey wanted to help more, his leg was sore. He played card games at the dining table with Edward, his leg propped with ice packs on one of the chairs. They chitchatted with Jon and Caroline, who prepped enough food to feed the block, including a cherry pie Tracey had specifically asked if his mother minded making to take to Christine up the street. Caroline readily agreed.

“So you’re settling into the neighborhood okay?” She rolled pie dough on the counter with the most space, though there wasn’t a lot of room given the amount of food in progress.

Jon stood off to the side, and every so often would throw a bit of flour at the dough. Every time he did it, Caroline smiled.

“I am. Christine cut the yard work in half by loaning us her leaf vacuum, and she agreed to watch the house if I have to leave town on a case. We’ve exchanged numbers to help each other out.”

“I’m so glad. It pays to have a neighbor you can trust.”

“It does. I said I’d feed her cat if she and her son go to her parents’ for Christmas.”

Jon raised his head. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Tracey nodded and put a card down. Then slapped it before his dad could. “Jack!” He raked in his winning pile with a grin.

Edward groaned. “Whippersnappers and your reflexes.”

“Yeah, I warned her I might get called away for work, but she said she has someone who’s been doing it who wanted to be more of a backup than a main pet sitter.”

The cards between him and Edward began to grow again as they flipped them over one at a time.

“So does this mean you’re not coming to Minneapolis for Christmas?” Caroline tried to sound nonchalant, but she didn’t quite pull it off.

Tracey stopped putting cards in the middle. “Mom, as much as I’d love to, I don’t see it happening this year.”

Jon held out his hand for the rolling pin. “Do you mind if I take over, Mrs. S?”

Caroline handed over the implement and went to wash her hands before she spoke again. As she did, she came to the table. “I suppose you probably aren’t up for the airport walking yet. Not unless this treatment works wonders.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I also don’t know about getting the time off.”

“Doesn’t dating the boss come with any perks?” She flipped a hand at Jon.

It was clearly a joke, and Jon took it as one, giving her a wide grin. “It should, but his boss is kind of a stickler for the rules.”

She scoffed playfully. “Except for the really big one.”

“Except for that.” He kept rolling out the second ball of dough, oblivious to the smudge of flour on his chin.

Caroline studied Tracey. “You’ll spend it with him?” she asked it kindly, no judgment at all.

He and Jon locked eyes, but Tracey was the one to answer. “Maybe it’ll be my turn to meet his parents, Ma. You never know.”

“Well.” She sniffed as though she were affronted, but her eyes sparkled. “I suppose I can share.”

Edward, who’d been playing without Tracey, slapped a massive pile of cards. “Jack!”

F riday morning, the alarm woke them. Jon had stayed over after they’d gorged themselves on so much food. He’d also, when he’d first arrived, brought a garment bag containing a suit, in case they got called into work.

The phantom they now knew as FlyinHi had been quiet for a couple of weeks, after seemingly escalating. But maybe he also took time off for the holidays.

Going into work together, especially after such a lovely day with Tracey’s parents, Jon had to admit that taking a step back really had done wonders for their relationship. They now chose when and where to spend time together. It was much more purposeful.

He was also thrilled for Tracey that things with his parents were going better. Caroline’s reasons for being upset, once Tracey had explained them, made complete sense, and Jon felt silly for not having considered them. But of course, that was before he’d met her, so how could he have known?

Despite his reputation at work, he was not, in fact, psychic.

Things were going so well that he was very seriously considering letting Tracey in on his last and final secret—his Hypnotist case obsession.

Even Perry and Sarena thought his fixation on that case bordered on disordered, so he had to tread carefully. There was a lot there he couldn’t disclose—about his history with the case, not the facts of it. If he stuck to the facts, then he’d be okay.

It was beginning to eat at him, though, holding anything back from Tracey.

However, right now was not the time to think about it, as they pulled into his reserved spot in the garage and walked toward the elevator.

The buzz of energy hit him as soon as they neared their desks. “What’s going on?”

Perry spoke without glancing away from his computer. “Smoldr.”

“Did we get the files back?”

“No, they’re fighting the subpoena.”

Jon groaned. “On what grounds?”

“They want the usernames of all the victims, too, so they can produce only the past records of FlyinHi.”

“That’s bullshit !” Tracey’s outburst got the attention of several nearby agents. “Sorry.” He immediately lowered his volume. “But it is.”

Sutherland came down the steps into the pit. “Of course it is, Smith, and I’ve spoken to the judge who issued the search warrant already. He’s reading their motion to limit the scope right now. We have to see what he says.”

Jon lifted his phone to his ear and hit a button for the switchboard. “Hi, Karly.” He recognized the operator who picked up. “Can you get me the direct line to the legal counsel for Smoldr?”

“Oh, that may take me a minute, Agent Anderson. Can I get back to you?”

“Yes, but quick as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

They disconnected, and ten minutes later, she was back. “Connecting you to Zachary Young’s office.”

“Thank you, Karly.”

“I can get you as close as his executive assistant through the work channels. Is that sufficient, Agent Anderson, or should I keep going for his personal phone number, sir?”

“This will work for now, but get that personal number for my back pocket, if you will. And thank you.”

“Yes, sir. Connecting now.”

There were a series of clicks on the line, then a brief burst of tones, as though an automated answering service had picked up and Karly had pressed a series of buttons to bypass the choices. Then it rang.

“Mr. Young’s office.” The woman who answered sounded efficient and no nonsense.

“I’d like to speak to Zachary Young, please. It’s urgent.”

“May I say who’s calling?”

“Supervisory Special Agent Jonathan Anderson, Federal Bureau of Investigation, ma’am.”

There was a brief pause. “Just a moment. I’ll see if he’s available.” After a twenty-second pause, she returned to the line. “He’s not available at this time. May I take a message?”

“Yes. You can tell him to take this call, or he can expect to be sitting in a jail cell by five-fifteen this evening for contempt of court and obstruction of justice. If I’m not speaking to him in the next thirty seconds, you may find yourself sitting next to him, ma’am.”

There was a pause.

“Twenty-five seconds.”

“Hold, please.”

In a blink, a man picked up, nonplussed. “Agent Anderson, is it? Now, was it really necessary to threaten my assistant?”

“Apparently that’s what it takes to get you on the line, so yes.”

“Hardly. What can I do for you?” The smarmy bastard had the nerve to ask.

“You can withdraw your motion to limit the search warrant we filed last week and produce the evidence we’re asking for exactly as we’re asking for it.”

“Now, now, that would be a violation of the privacy of users of Smoldr who aren’t caught up in your investigation. Which is exactly the exemption we’re requesting in our motion.”

Jon’s blood boiled. “I’m guessing you mean the users whose names we don’t yet know who are currently speaking with username FlyinHi.”

“The very same. They have as much right to privacy as the rest of our users who are not going by FlyinHi. You’re not just asking for FlyinHi’s data, you’re asking for the data of all those he’s speaking with. I can’t do that.”

Jon breathed evenly to keep his temper in check. “Your app is used in all 50 states, including California, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with California’s Tarasoff statute.”

Young paused. “I am.” He drew the second word out, though, as if he was uncertain.

Jon banked on Young posturing that he was more familiar with the law than he really was. Fingers crossed this worked.

“It’s the Duty to Protect law, which requires healthcare professionals to take steps to protect potential victims from violence when their patients have made threats to those individuals. Now, if healthcare professionals, bound by very restrictive HIPAA legislation, are required by law to inform law enforcement of potential violence against specific victims when they know their identities, what makes you think a dating app would be excused? We have a reasonable belief FlyinHi has violent potential because we have direct evidence he was the last person in contact with one of our victims. We know this is fact. You have the identities of the next potential victims. And you have the current identity of FlyinHi in your account holder’s history. All of which you are withholding from law enforcement.

“The California Supreme Court ruled twice on Tarasoff, if memory serves. I’m from D.C., so my recollection may not be perfect, but if I’m not mistaken, the justices ruled that the duty to protect potential victims of violent threats didn’t stop with only informing the victim. The healthcare worker themselves could be found negligent and sued if they didn’t take reasonable steps to inform law enforcement.” Jon paused for effect. “I’ve got five victims so far. Who knows how many men FlyinHi is talking to right now. Five families could sue you personally, Mr. Young, for failing to disclose this information to law enforcement. One of those families is Hollywood royalty. Very deep pockets. They can bat you around like a cat’s toy for literal years . However well Smoldr pays you, I don’t think it’s that well.”

He let that one land.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do.” He looked at the clock. “My supervisor is already in contact with the federal judge who issued this search warrant. He’s reviewing your motion to limit scope right now. I’m drafting charges of obstruction of justice and requesting that same federal judge hold you and your entire IT department in contempt for noncompliance with a subpoena. We’ll have the authorities in your jurisdiction slap those cuffs on everyone’s wrists at 5:01 p.m. By the time they book you in, there’ll be no judge on the bench for a Friday evening arraignment. You’ll be cooling your heels in jail until, at the earliest, eight Monday morning.

“Alternatively, you can withdraw your motion to limit and comply with our search warrant in full . We can keep potential new victims from harm, you don’t get sued by very rich people, and everybody wins.”

Tracey stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed while Sarena grinned from ear to ear. Sutherland and Perry stood with arms crossed, wearing identical smug smiles. The room was as silent as a tomb. Not even a pen scratch on a notepad.

Jon hit a button on his phone so it went to speaker.

He actually heard Zachary Young swallow.

“Uh. Yeah, I’ll call the judge right now to withdraw the motion, and we’ll have the information to you today.”

“Before five p.m. your time, Mr. Young. Or it’s a weekend in a cell. I’m not playing anymore.”

“Yes, SSA Anderson. I understand.”

“Thank you.” He disconnected and let out a huge whoosh . Then he said to Sutherland. “I think that’ll work.”

“You’re a goddamned genius, Ice Man.” Sutherland clapped him so hard on the shoulder, Jon almost lost his footing.

The room around them erupted in noise—nothing as dramatic as claps and cheers because this wasn’t a movie—but Jon’s takedown of Smoldr’s legal counsel would be around the building within the hour, and would rise to the stuff of legend before the end of the workday.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He peeked at the screen and saw a Smoldr notification over the icon. Ignoring it, he pointed at the team.

“Want coffee? I’m buying. I need to walk that off. I’m still angry.”

The team nodded, and he strode toward the stairwell. When he was alone, he checked the message.

It was from Tracey, set to disappear as soon as he read it.

You are so getting laid later.

His laugh echoed throughout the stairwell, and his anger diminished a smidgen.