Page 30 of The Gift
“Yes, sir.”
“Walk me through it.”
Coop gave him the clean version. He did not mention dreams, visions, or gut feelings. Only tangible evidence.
When he was done. Silence.
Then: “Where’d the intel originate?”
There it was. The line he’d have to cross.
Erica’s voice at 3 a.m. echoed in his head. She’d been shaken but was steady enough to give him everything she saw. She’d called all of it exactly right—the sounds, the smells, and the fucking logo. That wasn’t luck. Her gift drained her energy and isolated her from human touch. It was a heavy price.
Yet, when he asked for her help, she stepped up without hesitation.
The way she’d laid her fingers in his hand and hadn’t recoiled from him. Her apology on the phone seemed reflexive. How many of those had she given over the years? How many times had she been punished for caring too much?
Coop looked across the lot. O’Reilly was walking toward him. He knew the source. Could he trust his partner to back him up?
He made the call. The only one there was. The one that protected her.
“Cooper? Did I lose you?” his captain asked.
“The intel came from a confidential source,” he explained.
Reyes grunted. “Reliable?”
“Three suspects in custody. Missing juvenile recovered alive,” he repeated.
“Can’t quibble over that. Document it clean, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another pause.
“No sign of Kedrov?”
“He’s not the type to dirty his hands.”
“I suppose not,” Reyes muttered. Coop could hear his frustration, but it wasn’t half of what he was feeling. “Good work. Pass it on to your team.”
The call ended, and Coop tucked his phone into his pocket.
“You didn’t tell him about her.”
He glanced at O’Reilly, who’d obviously heard it all. “No.”
“Why? You trust her that much?”
Coop watched as the paramedic slammed the doors on the injured Russian. The siren ramped up as the ambulance pulled through the gates.
They hadn’t worked their way to this. They’d been shown the door and exactly where to kick it in.
But the girl was alive. Her kidnappers and her parents’ killers were off the street. They had the money, a motive, and a network that was starting to take shape.
They hadn’t finished it. Not even close. Kedrov was still out there. But it was a win.
As he brushed by O’Reilly, on his way to their vehicle, he answered him. “I trust what she gave us. We’re done here.”
