“Because I was trying to reach you.”
Talia looked toward the door.
“I have my phone now.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Later.”
He took one breath.
“I’m twenty-six minutes away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not answer another substantive question.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not sign anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not agree to any search.”
“I haven’t.”
A silence.
Then his voice softened.
“Good girl.”
Talia closed her eyes.
For the first time since the gas station, her shoulders dropped.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t tell them who you were.”
“I know.”
“I wanted them to let me go because I was right.”
Another pause.
“I know that too.”
His voice changed.
“And you were.”
Talia swallowed.
“See you soon.”
“Twenty-six minutes.”
The call ended.
Outside, Crowe stood beside Rourke in the parking lot.
The Georgia night had turned cool.
“You call the DoD number?” Crowe asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
Rourke looked toward him.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Crowe shrugged.
“Because if this is somebody important, I’d rather know what we’re dealing with before we start waking federal people.”
Rourke stared.
“Federal people are already awake.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Seventeen missed calls.”
“That’s a father.”
“Three came through the county switchboard.”
Crowe’s expression changed.
Rourke continued.
“One came from a Pentagon exchange.”
Silence.
Officer Velez emerged from the side entrance.
She looked toward both men.
“What’s going on?”
Rourke pointed toward her.
“Did you take Warren’s phone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you log it?”
Velez hesitated.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Everything was moving fast.”
“She was already restrained.”
Velez’s face tightened.
“I was going to enter it later.”
Rourke rubbed his forehead.
“That sentence has never improved anything.”
Crowe looked toward her.
“What did Halpern say before bringing the girl in?”
“Same thing that’s in his report.”
“The report isn’t written yet.”
Velez went quiet.
Rourke looked between them.
“Then everybody stops talking about what happened until their own reports are written.”
Crowe’s head turned.
“That sounds like an order.”
“It is.”
Rourke pointed toward the door.
“No coordination.”
Velez nodded.
“Write exactly what you remember.”
She walked back inside.
Crowe remained.
“That girl has changed the weather in this building.”
Rourke looked toward the road.
“No.”
Headlights appeared in the distance.
“We did.”
The black government SUV entered the parking lot without sirens.
No convoy.
No dramatic security detail.
No markings beyond federal plates.
It parked in a visitor space near the rear entrance.
The driver stepped out.
Elias Warren looked like a man returning from an ordinary business trip. White dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark slacks, no tie, carry-on bag left inside the vehicle. At fifty-two, he was lean rather than imposing, with close-cropped gray hair and the kind of posture that made uniforms unnecessary.
Rourke walked toward him.
“Mr. Warren?”
“Sergeant.”
They shook hands.
“My daughter is in Holding Room Three.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She entered your facility at approximately 9:20.”
Rourke said nothing.
“She has now been held more than two hours.”
“We were waiting for guardian pickup.”
Elias looked directly at him.
“Then you had seventeen opportunities to tell her I was coming.”
Rourke absorbed that.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like her released first.”
“Understood.”
“Then we can discuss the rest.”
Nothing in Elias’s voice was threatening.
That made it harder to dismiss.
They walked inside.
Talia was standing when the door opened.
She had heard the SUV arrive.
Recognized the low engine note.
She did not know whether that was possible, but she had grown up with her father returning late from enough airports and bases to know the sound of him coming home.
Elias appeared in the doorway.
For one second, he simply looked at her.
Talia looked back.
Then he crossed the room.
His right hand settled behind her head.
She leaned forward until her forehead touched his shoulder.
Neither spoke.
The moment lasted perhaps three seconds.
It felt longer.
Then Elias stepped back.
He looked at her wrists.
Red marks encircled both.
Something in his face went still.
“Photographed?”
Talia nodded.
“Sergeant Rourke arranged it.”
Elias looked toward Rourke.
“Thank you.”
Rourke almost seemed surprised.
“You’re welcome.”
Elias turned back.
“Ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
At the booking desk, Elias stopped.
“I’d like copies of everything generated tonight.”
Kern looked up.
“Sir, normally those records are requested through—”
“Incident report drafts, detention log, booking sheet, property intake, juvenile citation, and the evidence record concerning her phone.”
Velez stopped writing.
Kern looked toward Rourke.
Rourke nodded.
“Print what exists.”
Elias placed his phone on the counter.
The screen lit with an incoming message.
One contact name was visible.
Bracken County Counsel
Velez saw it.
So did Rourke.
Nobody commented.
Printing took sixteen minutes.
Elias did not pace.
Talia stood beside him.
Halpern appeared at the end of the corridor near the eleventh minute.
His eyes found Talia.
Then her father.
The expression that crossed his face was impossible to name from that distance.
Confusion first.
Then calculation.
Elias did not acknowledge him.
That was somehow worse.
At 11:39, father and daughter walked into the parking lot.
Cold air touched Talia’s face.
She breathed deeply.
Before entering the SUV, she looked back through the glass.
Halpern stood behind the processing area.
Velez sat at the desk.
Rourke remained in the corridor.
Talia held Halpern’s gaze for exactly two seconds.
Then got into the car.