PART 4 — SAINT HOLLIS
Delaney did not tell the agents about the message.
Not immediately.
That decision went against every rule she had been trained to follow.
But the photograph had changed the rules.
Somewhere behind Ronan and Nolan, a real federal badge had been visible.
Not a fake.
Not a toy.
Real enough that Mara recognized what it meant before Delaney did.
If Blackwell had people inside federal law enforcement, then broadcasting Ronan’s location could get him killed before Delaney reached the highway.
She locked her phone.
“Wade.”
He looked at her.
“You’re driving.”
Mara stared.
“Delaney—”
“You said Saint Hollis is ninety miles north.”
“It is.”
“Then we’re moving.”
“You can’t just leave a federal scene.”
“I can if my brother is being held by people who may be listening to every official channel.”
Wade studied her.
“You have a plan?”
“Yes.”
Mara frowned.
“What?”
“Make them think I stayed.”
Ten minutes later, Delaney was in the rear floorboard of Wade’s pickup beneath an old canvas tarp.
Mara sat in the passenger seat with her injured shoulder strapped tight.
Wade drove slowly through the federal perimeter like a retired lawman tired of being questioned.
An agent waved them down.
Wade rolled the window.
“You two leaving?”
“Mara needs a hospital.”
The agent looked at her sling.
Mara made her face go pale.
It was not difficult.
The agent nodded.
“Take the south road. North access is still locked down.”
Wade smiled.
“Appreciate it.”
They rolled away.
Delaney stayed hidden until the sirens and radio traffic faded.
Then she pushed the tarp aside.
“North road.”
Wade looked at her in the mirror.
“They told us south.”
“That’s why we take north.”
Mara almost smiled.
“Now you sound like your father.”
Delaney’s expression hardened.
“Don’t.”
Mara looked out the window.
“I’m sorry.”
The pickup turned onto a narrow farm road.
Pine trees swallowed the sky.
For several miles, nobody spoke.
Then Delaney asked:
“What was Saint Hollis?”
Wade answered.
“Officially?”
“Yes.”
“State juvenile correction center.”
“And unofficially?”
“That depended on the year.”
Delaney waited.
“In the nineties, it started taking overflow from county facilities. Then contracts changed. Funding disappeared. By the early 2000s, parts of the property were abandoned.”
“Parts?”
“Administration building stayed active.”
“For what?”
Wade gripped the wheel.
“Training.”
Mara added:
“Interrogation.”
Delaney looked at her.
“Of juveniles?”
“Sometimes.”
“Who else?”
“Informants. Witnesses. People nobody wanted on official paperwork.”
A cold silence settled inside the truck.
Delaney stared through the windshield.
“You’re telling me law enforcement used a juvenile prison as a black site.”
Wade said:
“Not law enforcement.”
“Then who?”
“People who happened to wear law enforcement uniforms when useful.”
That answer bothered her more.
“How long did my father work with them?”
Wade did not answer.
Mara did.
“Long enough.”
Delaney turned toward her.
“How long?”
“Years.”
“Doing what?”
“Transportation at first.”
Delaney’s stomach tightened.
The childhood memories returned again.
Her father coming home after midnight.
Mud on his boots.
Gasoline on his jacket.
Cash folded in the kitchen drawer.
He had always said private security paid strangely.
“He moved people.”
Mara nodded.
“Sometimes evidence.”
“Sometimes people?”
“Yes.”
“Willingly?”
Mara hesitated.
“That’s harder.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Delaney’s voice sharpened.
“Did he know what he was doing?”
“Yes.”
The word sat heavy.
Delaney looked away.
Mara continued quietly.
“But knowing what a job is and understanding what it becomes are not always the same thing.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“It isn’t.”
“Good.”
Wade glanced at her in the mirror.
“Your father isn’t the victim in this story.”
Delaney met his eyes.
“I know.”
“He also isn’t the only villain.”
“I know that too.”
Forty minutes later, the road narrowed into broken asphalt.
An old sign appeared through the trees.
SAINT HOLLIS YOUTH DEVELOPMENT CENTER
The word YOUTH had been spray-painted over.
The chain-link fence around the property sagged in sections.
Razor wire rusted along the top.
The main gate hung open.
Wade stopped half a mile away.
“No closer.”
Delaney looked at the compound.
Three buildings visible.
Administration.
Dormitory.
Gymnasium.
A water tower rose behind them.
SAINT HOLLIS painted across the tank.
Exactly what Ronan had seen.
Mara whispered:
“He’s here.”
Delaney opened the truck door.
Wade grabbed her wrist.
“Wait.”
She looked at him.
“If they told you to come alone, they’ll watch the entrance.”
“I know.”
“They’ll also watch the road.”
“I know.”
“And if Blackwell is still active, they’ll have thermal.”
Delaney paused.
“You sure?”
“No.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Wade pointed east.
“There’s a drainage canal behind the old gym.”
“You’ve been here.”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Enough.”
Delaney stared at him.
“We’re going to talk about that later.”
“If there is a later.”
“Then help me make sure there is.”
They left the truck hidden beneath trees and moved on foot.
Mara stayed behind.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her shoulder had started bleeding again.
Before Delaney left, Mara caught her hand.
“If you see Nolan—”
“What?”
“Don’t assume he’s free.”
Delaney frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means people can be hostages without ropes.”
Delaney studied her.
“Are you trying to warn me or defend him?”
“Both.”
Delaney pulled away.
She and Wade crossed through brush, followed the drainage canal, and reached the rear fence.
A section had already been cut.
Freshly.
Wade touched the metal.
“Someone came through here recently.”
“Blackwell?”
“Maybe.”
“Or Dad?”
“Maybe.”
They climbed through.
The grounds were silent.
Too silent.
No birds.
No insects.
No wind through the grass.
Delaney crouched behind an old maintenance shed.
A camera turned slowly above the administration building.
Modern.
Clean.
Not abandoned.
“There,” Wade whispered.
Delaney saw it.
Another camera.
Then another.
“Whoever runs this place has money.”
Wade nodded.
“And power.”
They moved along the dormitory wall.
Broken windows lined the building.
Inside, metal bunks sat beneath layers of dust.
Graffiti covered the walls.
Names.
Dates.
Some carved into concrete.
Some written in marker.
Then Delaney saw one.
N.V.
She stopped.
Wade followed her gaze.
“You think that’s him?”
“I don’t know.”
Beneath the initials were four numbers.
1103.
Delaney frowned.
“November third?”
“Or a room.”
She touched the carving.
Fresh dust fell away.
The marks beneath were old.
Very old.
Her father had been here before she ever knew Saint Hollis existed.
A metallic clang echoed somewhere deeper in the compound.
They froze.
Voices.
Two men.
Delaney and Wade slipped into a stairwell.
The voices moved closer.
One man said:
“Blackwell wants her inside alive.”
The other answered:
“And the brother?”
“Depends on what she does.”
Delaney’s jaw tightened.
The first man continued.
“What about Nolan?”
“Same.”
“Bell?”
A pause.
“Bell’s done.”
Delaney looked at Wade.
Bell had not escaped.
Blackwell had taken him.
The men passed.
Delaney waited until the footsteps faded.
Then whispered:
“They’re expecting me.”
Wade nodded.
“Which means they know you left the quarry.”
“How?”
“Someone told them.”
Delaney thought of the federal perimeter.
Every agent.
Every vehicle.
Every badge.
“Inside leak.”
“Almost certainly.”
They reached the administration building through a side door.
Unlocked.
That bothered Delaney immediately.
“Too easy.”
Wade agreed.
Inside smelled like bleach and old concrete.
The hall lights were on.
A modern electrical hum ran through the walls.
Not abandoned at all.
Delaney spotted fresh boot prints.
She followed them.
The corridor opened into an old processing room.
On the wall hung juvenile intake photographs from decades ago.
Most faces had been removed.
One remained.
A teenage boy.
Thin.
Bruised.
Defiant.
Delaney stopped.
She knew the eyes.
Nolan Voss.
Her father.
Age sixteen.
The name card beneath read:
VOSS, NOLAN
INTAKE: 06/14/1989
Delaney stared.
“He was here as a kid.”
Wade exhaled slowly.
“That explains something.”
“What?”
“Why he knew the facility before Blackwell used it.”
Delaney’s stomach turned.
“He was incarcerated here.”
“Looks like it.”
She looked closer.
The charge line had been blacked out.
But another word remained visible.
TRANSFERRED.
“To where?”
Wade pointed at a smaller code beneath.
“BH-4.”
“What is that?”
He did not know.
Then a speaker above them crackled.
Delaney and Wade both raised their weapons.
A voice filled the hall.
Male.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Delaney.”
Her blood froze.
Nolan.
Her father.
“Delaney, put the weapon down.”
She stared at the speaker.
“Dad?”
A long silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Her throat tightened despite herself.
“Where’s Ronan?”
“He’s alive.”
“Let me hear him.”
“You will.”
“Now.”
“Not yet.”
Delaney’s anger returned.
“You don’t get to control this conversation.”
“I know.”
“Then stop trying.”
The speaker went quiet.
Wade whispered:
“He knows exactly where we are.”
A camera above the door turned toward them.
Nolan’s voice returned.
“You brought Wade.”
Delaney looked at him.
Wade looked equally surprised.
“You told me to come alone.”
“I told them to tell you that.”
Delaney went still.
“What?”
“I needed to know who you trusted.”
Her face hardened.
“You used Ronan to test me?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“Go to Intake Room Four.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you over the speaker, they’ll hear.”
Delaney looked at Wade.
“They?”
The speaker clicked dead.
They found Intake Room Four at the end of the hall.
The door was open.
Inside sat an old desk.
One chair.
One tape recorder.
And a red phone.
It rang.
Delaney stared at it.
Wade whispered:
“Trap.”
“Probably.”
The phone rang again.
Delaney answered.
“Where is Ronan?”
Nolan’s voice came through, lower now.
“They’re listening to everything else.”
“Who?”
“Blackwell.”
“Who runs it?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“You worked for them.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
“I knew supervisors. Handlers. Never the top.”
“Convenient.”
“I deserve that.”
Delaney closed her eyes briefly.
“Why fake your death?”
“Because I tried to expose them.”
“After helping them for years.”
“Yes.”
“Why involve Ronan?”
Silence.
Delaney’s voice sharpened.
“Why did you use my brother as an encryption key?”
“Because I trusted him.”
“You painted a target on him.”
“I know.”
“That isn’t trust.”
“No.”
For the first time, Nolan sounded broken.
“It was desperation.”
Delaney gripped the receiver.
“Where is he?”
“Building C.”
“The dormitory?”
“Yes.”
“Room?”
“Basement.”
“How many guards?”
“Four inside. More outside.”
“Are you with him?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“Closer than you think.”
Wade moved to the window.
Delaney continued.
“Why are they holding you?”
“Because I brought them something they want.”
“The full archive?”
“No.”
“What?”
“The identity of the person who actually built Blackwell.”
Delaney froze.
“You know who founded it?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Nolan did not answer.
“Dad.”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try.”
A long breath came through the phone.
Then:
“Your mother.”
Delaney did not move.
Wade turned from the window.
“What?”
Nolan continued.
“Your mother built the original network.”
Delaney’s voice dropped.
“My mother died six years ago.”
“No.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“No.”
“She disappeared.”
Delaney tightened her grip.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“My mother had cancer.”
“She had records.”
“I buried her.”
“Another closed casket.”
Delaney stopped breathing.
Not again.
Wade stared at her.
Nolan’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
Delaney stepped back from the desk.
“You’re telling me both of my parents faked their deaths.”
“Not together.”
“Then how?”
“She disappeared because Blackwell turned on her too.”
“Why?”
“Because she tried to dismantle it.”
Delaney laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“So everyone in my family secretly worked for a criminal network except me?”
“Not Ronan.”
“You used him.”
“Yes.”
“And now he’s tied to a chair because of you.”
“Yes.”
At least Nolan did not deny it.
Delaney looked at Wade.
He had gone pale.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“About my mother?”
“No.”
Nolan’s voice returned.
“Delaney, listen carefully.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you have about three minutes.”
Her attention snapped back.
“Until what?”
“They’re moving Ronan.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said he was in Building C.”
“He is. But they just changed the transport order.”
“How do you know?”
“I still have access to part of their internal system.”
“Then stop them.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not free.”
Mara’s warning returned.
People can be hostages without ropes.
“What do they have on you?”
Nolan did not answer.
Then Delaney understood.
“Mom.”
Silence.
“They have Mom.”
Nolan whispered:
“Yes.”
Delaney shut her eyes.
Everything hurt now.
Every grave.
Every funeral.
Every year.
Every memory.
“You chose her over Ronan.”
“No.”
“You let them take him.”
“No.”
“You brought him into this.”
“Yes.”
“You let them hold him because they have her.”
Nolan’s voice broke.
“I’m trying to save both.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the truth.”
A buzzer sounded somewhere.
Wade moved to the door.
“We need to go.”
Delaney spoke into the phone.
“Building C basement?”
“Yes.”
“How do I get in?”
“North stairwell.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Do not trust Wade.”
Delaney’s eyes lifted.
Wade stopped.
The room became absolutely silent.
“What did you say?”
Nolan continued:
“Wade worked Saint Hollis security.”
Wade’s expression changed.
Delaney slowly lowered the phone.
“You said you were a Texas Ranger.”
“I was.”
“You worked here?”
“Before.”
“For Blackwell?”
“No.”
Nolan’s voice came from the receiver.
“He signed transport orders.”
Wade looked furious.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Did you?”
Delaney asked.
Wade did not answer.
“Did you sign transport orders?”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
“State transfers.”
“People who disappeared?”
“I didn’t know.”
Nolan said through the phone:
“He knew enough.”
Wade snapped:
“Ask him who trained Bell.”
Delaney looked at the phone.
Wade continued.
“Ask him who taught them how to make stops disappear.”
Nolan said nothing.
Wade stepped closer.
“Your father is trying to turn you against everyone so you only have him.”
Delaney stared between the phone and Wade.
Then alarms erupted throughout Saint Hollis.
Red lights began flashing in the hallway.
A recorded voice repeated:
“SECURITY EVENT. SECURITY EVENT.”
Nolan shouted through the receiver:
“They’re moving Ronan now!”
Delaney dropped the phone.
She and Wade ran.
They crossed the courtyard under the alarm.
Two armed men emerged near the gym.
Wade fired once into the ground beside them.
They ducked.
Delaney sprinted toward Building C.
The north stairwell door was chained.
She shot the lock.
The chain fell.
They descended.
The basement smelled like mold and disinfectant.
Metal doors lined both sides.
Room 8 was open.
Empty chair.
Rope on the floor.
Fresh blood.
“Ronan!”
No answer.
Then she heard wheels.
A gurney.
Far corridor.
Delaney ran.
She turned the corner and saw two men pushing Ronan toward a loading bay.
His wrists were restrained.
A black hood covered his head.
“FBI!”
The men turned.
One reached for a weapon.
Delaney fired into the wall beside his hand.
“DROP IT!”
The weapon hit the floor.
The second man ran.
Wade chased him.
Delaney rushed to Ronan.
She pulled off the hood.
His face was bruised.
His lip split.
But alive.
“Del?”
“I’ve got you.”
His eyes filled.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
She cut the restraints.
Ronan grabbed her wrist.
“Dad’s lying.”
Delaney froze.
“About what?”
“Mom.”
“What about her?”
“She’s not a hostage.”
“What?”
Ronan looked terrified.
“She’s in charge.”
Delaney stared.
“No.”
“I saw her.”
“Ronan.”
“I saw her.”
His voice broke.
“She was here.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Delaney’s heart hammered.
“What did she say?”
Ronan swallowed.
“She said you were the last piece.”
A gunshot echoed from the loading bay.
Wade shouted.
Delaney pulled Ronan behind cover.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Confident.
A woman’s voice drifted through the corridor.
Older.
Soft.
Familiar.
“Delaney.”
Every childhood memory in Delaney’s body recognized that voice before her mind did.
She stood frozen.
Ronan whispered:
“Don’t.”
The woman stepped into view.
Gray hair cut short.
Elegant black coat.
No weapon visible.
A thin scar beneath her chin.
Delaney’s mother.
Vivian Voss.
Alive.
Delaney could not breathe.
Vivian smiled.
Not warmly.
Not cruelly.
Like someone who had been waiting eleven years for a door to open.
“My girl.”
Delaney raised her weapon.
Vivian stopped.
“That’s close enough.”
Vivian’s smile faded.
“You look just like I knew you would.”
“You’re dead.”
“No.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury Dad.”
“Yes.”
“You let Ronan think he lost both of you.”
Vivian looked toward Ronan.
“That was necessary.”
Ronan flinched.
Delaney’s voice shook with rage.
“Necessary?”
Vivian sighed.
“You don’t understand yet.”
“Then explain.”
“You were never supposed to find Cedar Ridge this way.”
“How was I supposed to find it?”
“When you were ready.”
“For what?”
Vivian looked directly at Delaney.
“To take over.”
Delaney stared.
Ronan whispered:
“I told you.”
Vivian took one step closer.
Delaney tightened her aim.
“Stop.”
Vivian stopped.
“Blackwell isn’t a unit anymore.”
“What is it?”
“A network.”
“You built it.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Originally?”
Vivian’s eyes hardened.
“To remove people the law could not touch.”
Delaney laughed bitterly.
“And then you started robbing drivers?”
“No.”
“Bell did.”
“Bell corrupted his branch.”
“You created the branch.”
“Yes.”
“So you created the problem.”
“Yes.”
Again, no denial.
Delaney hated that.
Vivian continued:
“I tried to dismantle Blackwell years ago.”
“Dad said that too.”
“Nolan always told half the truth.”
A sound came from behind.
Wade stumbled into the corridor.
Blood on his sleeve.
Weapon raised.
When he saw Vivian, he stopped dead.
“Jesus.”
Vivian smiled faintly.
“Hello, Wade.”
Delaney looked at him.
“You knew she was alive.”
“No.”
Vivian tilted her head.
“You suspected.”
Wade said nothing.
Delaney felt betrayal stacking on betrayal until almost nothing felt solid.
“Who can I trust?”
Vivian answered immediately.
“Ronan.”
Delaney looked at her brother.
Ronan looked terrified.
Vivian continued:
“And yourself.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s also true.”
A distant rumble sounded above them.
Vehicles.
Many.
Vivian glanced upward.
“We need to move.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Your people.”
Delaney stared.
“FBI?”
“Some.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the team from the quarry tracked you.”
Delaney looked at Wade.
“How?”
He checked his jacket.
Then cursed.
A tiny tracker was clipped beneath his belt.
Vivian said:
“They tagged him before you left.”
Wade ripped it off.
Delaney’s stomach tightened.
“Which agents are Blackwell?”
Vivian looked at her.
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
The lights flickered.
Then went out.
Emergency red filled the corridor.
A loudspeaker crackled.
A male voice spoke.
“Vivian.”
She froze.
Delaney noticed.
For the first time, her mother looked afraid.
The voice continued.
“You’ve had your reunion.”
Ronan grabbed Delaney’s arm.
The speaker said:
“Now send Delaney upstairs.”
Vivian looked toward the ceiling.
“No.”
“Then we kill Nolan.”
Delaney’s pulse stopped.
A screen at the end of the corridor flickered on.
Live video.
Nolan sat in a chair.
Hands bound.
Blood along his forehead.
Behind him stood Sheriff Bell.
Alive.
Free.
Smiling.
Delaney stared.
Bell leaned toward the camera.
“Family reunion going well?”
Vivian whispered:
“Alden.”
Bell smiled wider.
“You should’ve left me buried at the quarry.”
Delaney looked at Vivian.
“You said Bell was done.”
“He was supposed to be.”
The speaker voice returned.
“Delaney Voss. Upstairs. Alone.”
Delaney stared at the screen.
“Who are you?”
The man chuckled.
“You already know me.”
“No.”
“You’ve worked for me for six years.”
Delaney went cold.
The voice changed.
Not electronically.
Just enough that she recognized the cadence.
A supervisor.
A man who had approved cases.
Signed leave forms.
Praised her work.
Called her after difficult operations.
Assistant Special Agent in Charge Malcolm Rusk.
Her boss.
Delaney whispered:
“Rusk.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Wade cursed.
Ronan looked confused.
The speaker clicked again.
“Come upstairs, Agent Voss.”
Rusk’s voice was almost gentle.
“Your father is running out of time.”
Delaney looked at the screen.
At Nolan.
At Bell.
Then at Vivian.
Her dead mother.
At Ronan.
At Wade.
Every direction held someone who had lied to her.
The difference now was that one of them was still holding the truth.
Delaney lowered her weapon slightly.
Vivian whispered:
“Don’t go.”
“If I don’t, they kill him.”
“They may kill him anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean I leave him.”
Vivian’s eyes filled.
“You really are mine.”
Delaney looked at her.
“No.”
Vivian flinched.
“I’m what I became in spite of all of you.”
Then Delaney turned toward the stairwell.
Ronan grabbed her sleeve.
“Del.”
She looked back.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, get out.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
His jaw tightened.
Delaney leaned close.
“Trust me.”
Ronan nodded reluctantly.
Delaney began climbing.
One step.
Then another.
At the top, the administration hallway was empty.
Red emergency lights flashed against the walls.
A door at the end stood open.
Inside was an old chapel.
Rows of wooden benches.
A faded cross.
Broken stained glass.
Nolan sat at the altar.
Bell stood behind him.
And beside Bell stood Malcolm Rusk.
Dark suit.
White shirt.
Silver tie.
Exactly like the reflection in Ronan’s photograph.
Rusk smiled when Delaney entered.
“Agent Voss.”
Delaney raised her weapon.
“Let him go.”
Rusk shook his head.
“You still think this is about your father.”
“What is it about?”
“You.”
Delaney’s eyes narrowed.
Rusk stepped away from Nolan.
“Your mother built Blackwell.”
“I know.”
“Your father tried to destroy it.”
“I know.”
“Bell abused it.”
“I know.”
Rusk smiled.
“But none of them understood what Blackwell actually needed.”
Delaney kept her weapon steady.
“What?”
“Legitimacy.”
Her stomach tightened.
Rusk continued:
“People like Bell make organizations dirty.”
He looked at Nolan.
“People like your father make them unstable.”
Then toward Vivian’s unseen position below.
“People like your mother make them ideological.”
He looked back at Delaney.
“But you?”
His smile widened.
“You make it credible.”
Delaney’s voice went cold.
“You want me to join you.”
“No.”
Rusk shook his head.
“I want you to inherit it.”
Delaney stared.
Then Bell laughed softly.
“You see?”
Rusk continued:
“Blackwell has already been operating around you for years.”
“What?”
“Some of your cases.”
Delaney felt her pulse change.
“Which ones?”
“The ones that resolved too easily.”
“No.”
“The witnesses who suddenly cooperated.”
“No.”
“The evidence that appeared exactly when you needed it.”
Delaney’s grip tightened.
“You manipulated my investigations.”
“We supported them.”
“You contaminated them.”
“We made sure dangerous people went away.”
Delaney stared at him.
“That means my career was built on fabricated evidence.”
“Not all of it.”
The answer hit harder than a denial.
Delaney felt sick.
Rusk stepped closer.
“Join us, and you can clean it.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the offer.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Your brother walks.”
“No.”
“Your parents disappear somewhere safe.”
“No.”
“Bell takes the blame for Cedar Ridge.”
Bell’s smile vanished.
He turned toward Rusk.
“What?”
Rusk ignored him.
Delaney noticed.
So did Bell.
“You said—”
“Quiet, Alden.”
Bell’s face changed.
He finally understood.
He had never been a partner.
Just another disposable branch.
Rusk continued:
“All records tied to your compromised cases vanish.”
Delaney’s stomach twisted.
“And if I refuse?”
Rusk looked at Nolan.
Bell slowly raised his weapon behind Nolan’s head.
“Then your father dies first.”
A pause.
“Your brother second.”
Another.
“Your mother third.”
Delaney stared at him.
“And me?”
Rusk smiled.
“You live.”
“Why?”
“Because dead agents become investigations.”
He took one step closer.
“Disgraced agents become warnings.”
Delaney understood.
They would destroy her career.
Pin the quarry on her.
Fabricate evidence.
Call her unstable.
Corrupt.
Obsessed with avenging her brother.
Everything Quill had tried on a roadside, Blackwell could do on a national scale.
Rusk held out one hand.
“Give me your weapon.”
Delaney did not move.
Nolan looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Then he did something strange.
He rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger.
The old habit.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Delaney remembered Wade describing it.
But now she saw something else.
A signal.
Nolan’s eyes dropped toward the floor.
Delaney followed.
A loose wooden panel beneath the altar.
Rusk said:
“Delaney.”
She looked at him again.
Then lowered her weapon.
Bell smiled.
Rusk relaxed.
“Good.”
Delaney let the weapon fall.
It hit the floor.
Then she kicked the loose panel.
Hard.
The wood snapped.
A hidden shotgun rose from beneath the altar on a spring mount Nolan must have prepared earlier.
Bell startled.
Nolan threw himself sideways.
Delaney dove for her weapon.
The shotgun discharged into the ceiling.
Glass exploded.
Bell fired.
Rusk shouted.
Delaney rolled behind a pew and fired once.
Bell’s weapon flew from his hand.
Nolan tackled him.
Rusk ran for the side door.
Delaney chased him.
He reached the hallway.
Then stopped.
Vivian stood there.
Weapon raised.
Ronan beside her.
Wade behind them.
Rusk smiled.
“Well.”
Vivian’s face held no warmth.
“You always were impatient, Malcolm.”
Rusk looked between them.
“You brought the whole family.”
Delaney approached from behind.
“Hands up.”
Rusk slowly raised them.
For one second, it looked finished.
Then every light in Saint Hollis turned white.
Bright.
Blinding.
A voice boomed over every speaker.
Not Rusk’s.
Female.
Older.
Calm.
“Enough.”
Vivian’s face drained of color.
Nolan appeared in the chapel doorway.
He heard it too.
And he whispered a name Delaney had never heard.
“Evelyn.”
Vivian looked terrified.
Delaney turned toward her.
“Who is Evelyn?”
Vivian did not answer.
The speakers crackled.
The woman said:
“Delaney, your mother has lied to you about one final thing.”
Delaney stared upward.
The voice continued:
“She did not build Blackwell.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Nolan looked defeated.
Rusk smiled despite the weapon aimed at him.
The woman continued:
“She inherited it.”
A door somewhere deep in Saint Hollis unlocked with a heavy metallic clunk.
Then another.
Then another.
Delaney heard footsteps.
Many.
Coming from below.
Vivian whispered:
“We need to run.”
Delaney tightened her grip on her weapon.
“Who is Evelyn?”
Vivian looked at her daughter.
And for the first time since Delaney had seen her alive, Vivian Voss looked truly helpless.
“She’s my mother.”
Delaney stared.
Ronan whispered:
“What?”
Vivian’s voice cracked.
“Your grandmother.”
The footsteps grew louder.
And somewhere beneath Saint Hollis, a woman Delaney had believed dead before Delaney was even born was walking toward them.
END OF PART 4
