Page 17 of Whispers in the Dark
That told Alex everything he needed to know. He turned to Charlotte. "How much do the girls know about the case?"
Charlotte exhaled, pressing her fingers into the edge of the table. "I don’t know. I never mentioned it to them. If they know about the case, it’s because of the notoriety. I never told them it was my arrest. Olivia was about four, Sophie was two, and I was pregnant with Molly. Izzy and Ruth weren’t even conceived.”
Alex went still.
"Not even Izzy?" Brad asked. “She’s a forensic psychologist. She studies serial killers.”
Charlotte didn’t answer.
Alex swore under his breath, “Damn it.”
Isobel had built her career around studying killers. Analyzing them. Understanding them. And Charlotte never told her about the case that clearly almost broke her.
Alex took a slow step toward her, but Charlotte wouldn’t look at him. "Let me help keep you safe," he said, voice low.
She exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Alex didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t let up. Because he couldn’t. She mattered too damn much.
Finally, she exhaled. "Fine. Call Izzy."
Alex felt his chest loosen just a fraction.
Brad nodded. "I’ll let her know I’m coming over. And, Charlotte?" She finally met his gaze. "You should be the one to tell the others. Before Izzy does.”
Charlotte stared at the registration card, her lips parting just slightly. Then she nodded.
Brad scooped up the evidence bag and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. Alex stayed where he was, watching her grip the chair like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
He stepped closer. "Hey.” He reached out, brushing his hand over her arm. "Tell the girls it was over thirty years ago."
She closed her eyes for just a second. "I hope so."
Six
Rook satin his parked car, a hundred yards from Charlotte Everhart’s house, hidden behind a utility truck with no plates and a fake inspection sticker. He watched through a long lens, one elbow resting on the center console, his finger tapping quietly against the leather steering wheel.
She was rattled—but composed.
He saw her talking to Alex Marcel on the porch. Saw the HPB sweep team moving in, bagging evidence. Saw Brad Killian himself arrive. That was expected. Necessary, even.
Rook wasn’t here to stop her from reacting. He was here to see how she reacted. She’d done exactly what Gideon predicted: report, contain, observe.
She hadn’t gone to her daughters. Hadn’t shut down. She’d gone straight to process. It meant she still believed this was something she could solve.
Rook lowered the camera, checked his watch. It was time.
Three hours later,Rook passed through three layers of clearance and descended into the facility—no name, no signage, no cell service. Just steel doors, biometric scans, and a silence that pressed against his ribs. The deeper levels always smelled like coolant and metal.
He walked through decontamination, changed into clean gear, and stepped through the final door into the program’s core. The main corridor was wide, lined with reinforced glass rooms and surgical lighting. Some held test units. Others were clean, cold, empty.
Waiting.
Rook moved toward the central control hub. She was already there. Monroe. Sleek. Controlled. Mid-forties. Tall with angular features, skin like porcelain under lab lights. Her dark blonde hair was coiled into a single braid, and her eyes—flat gray-blue, unblinking—never left the monitors.
Rook stood at attention by the door, doing his best imitation of a dunce. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. He knew how they liked to see him: stupid and harmless.
Dr. Sybil Vance’s voice cracked through the sterile air. “We lost a subject last night.” She looked devastated, with white hair cropped short, face lined but severe, eyes like cracked ice. She was wearing a simple gray blouse under a lab coat that looked like it had never been laundered outside a sterile room. Once a respected neurologist at MIT, she disappeared from the public eye in 1993 after a scandal involving a paper supporting scientific human testing. Gideon Ward recruited her two years later.
