Page 77 of Illusionist
“I owe you dinner when this is all over,” I tell him.
Ethan chuckles. “Buy me a beer and we'll call it even.” He pauses. “Take care, Coleman. These people are dangerous. They've got reach, resources, and decades of practice covering their tracks.”
“I'll be careful,” I promise. “Tell Caleb I said hi when you see him. And Basia too, of course.”
After we hang up, I spend another hour pulling together everything I can find on Dr. Rebecca Morrison. Public records, newspaper interviews, foundation financials. The picture that emerges is of a woman who turned childhood trauma into a life mission of protecting other children.
She's exactly what we need.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's Silas:
How's the manhunt going?
Found her. Ideal candidate. Heading back now.
Good. Nova's getting impatient. She wants to celebrate your success properly.
My cock twitches in my pants. Just the thought of Nova's hands on me, of Silas's mouth, of being caught between them again...
I close the laptop and gather my files with hands that aren't quite steady. Time to go home. Time to give my new family the key to their justice.
Twenty minutes later, I'm pulling into the carnival lot. The lights feel welcoming now instead of threatening, the sounds familiar instead of foreign. I park next to Silas's trailer—ourtrailer—and grab my laptop bag.
Inside, I find them exactly where I hoped: tangled together on the couch, Nova reading while Silas sketches in a leather-bound notebook. They look up when I enter, and the warmth in their eyes makes my chest tight with emotion I'm not ready to name.
“Success?” Nova asks, closing her book.
I set down my bag and move to join them on the couch, Silas shifting to make room so I can settle between them. Nova's legs drape over my lap, Silas's arm comes around my shoulders, and for the first time all day, I can breathe properly.
“Better than success,” I tell them. “I found our insider. And she's going to be perfect for this.”
I tell them about Dr. Rebecca Morrison, watching their faces light up as I describe her background, her credentials, her very public commitment to protecting children from the kind of monsters they're hunting.
“A survivor who made it out and used her freedom to protect other kids,” Nova says softly. “She'll understand exactly what's at stake.”
“The question is how we approach her,” Silas muses, his fingers drawing patterns on my shoulder. “Can't exactly send a formal invitation.”
“Actually,” I say, “I might be able to arrange a meeting. Official business. The FBI is always investigating connections between missing children and charitable organizations. I could request an interview with her about best practices, red flags to watch for.”
“And during that interview?” Nova asks.
“I tell her the truth. About Malachi, about the Bellmour Youth Initiative, about children who are still being hurt. And I ask her if she's willing to help us save them.”
Silas's grin is sharp, pleased. “I love it. Using official channels to recruit our revolutionary.”
“She won't refuse,” Nova says with certainty. “Not if she's really a survivor. Not if she understands what Malachi is still doing to kids.”
I think about Rebecca Morrison's public statements, her foundation's mission, the life she's built dedicated to protecting vulnerable children. Nova's right. A woman like that won't be able to walk away from the chance to stop a predator.
“So we have our next step,” I say, settling deeper into their warmth. “I contact Dr. Morrison, arrange a meeting, and we see if she's willing to join our crusade.”
“Our crusade,” Nova repeats, and I can hear the satisfaction in her voice. “I like the sound of that.”
Silas presses a kiss to my temple. “Welcome home, Agent Coleman.”
The words settle the restlessness within. Home. Family. Purpose. Everything I didn't know I was looking for until I found it in the most unlikely place.
“It's good to be home,” I tell them, and mean every word.
