According to Michael, the McBrides’ lawyer had felt a thrill just mentioning the little girl’s name. I was hoping that meant there was a chance—however small—that the man had kept her alive: a living, breathing reminder that he was bigger, better, smarter than the FBI.
“Cassie.” Dean Redding burst into the room, and my chest constricted. Dean was quiet and self-contained. He almost never raised his voice.
“Dean?”
“They found her,” Dean said. “Cassie, they found her on his property, exactly where Sloane’s schematics said they would. She’s alive.”
I jumped up, my heart pounding in my ears, unsure if I was going to cry or throw up or shriek. Dean smiled. Not a half smile. Not a grin. He beamed, and the expression transformed him. Chocolate-brown eyes sparkled underneath the blond hair that hung perpetually in his face. A dimple I’d never seen appeared in one cheek.
I threw my arms around Dean. A moment later, I bounced out of his grip and launched myself at Michael.
Michael caught me and let out a whoop. Dean sat down on the arm of the couch, and there I was, wedged in between them, feeling the heat from both of their bodies, and all I could think was that Mackenzie was going to get to go home.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”
The three of us turned to see Lia in the doorway. She was dressed from head to toe in black, a white silk scarf tied neatly around her neck. She arched an eyebrow at us: cool and calm and just a little bit mocking.
“Admit it, Lia,” Michael said. “You’re just as happy as we are.”
Lia eyed me. She eyed Michael. She eyed Dean. “Honestly,” she said, “I doubt that anyone is as happy as Cassie is at this exact moment.”
I was getting better at ignoring Lia’s suggestive little digs, but this one hit its target, dead center. Squished in between Michael and Dean, I blushed. I was not going to go there—and I wasn’t going to let Lia ruin this.
A grim expression on his face, Dean stood and marched toward Lia. For a moment, I thought he might say something to her about spoiling the moment, but he didn’t. He just picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Hey!” Lia protested.
Dean grinned and threw her onto the sofa with Michael and me and then resumed his perch on the edge of the couch like nothing had happened. Lia scowled, and Michael poked her cheek.
“Admit it,” he said again. “You’re just as happy as we are.”
Lia tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared straight ahead, refusing to look any of us in the eye. “A little girl is going home,” she said. “Because of us. Of course I’m as happy as you are.”
“Given individual differences in serotonin levels, the probability that any four people would be experiencing identical levels of happiness simultaneously is quite—”
“Sloane,” Michael said, without bothering to turn around. “If you don’t finish that sentence, there’s a cup of fresh ground coffee in your future.”
“My immediate future?” Sloane asked suspiciously. Michael had a long history of blocking her consumption of caffeine.
Without a word, Michael, Lia, and I all turned to look at Dean. He got the message, stood up, and strode toward Sloane, giving her the exact same treatment he’d given Lia. When Dean tossed Sloane gently on top of me, I giggled and almost toppled onto the floor, but Lia grabbed hold of my collar.
We did it, I thought, as Michael, Lia, Sloane, and I elbowed for room and Dean stared on from his position, just outside the fray. Mackenzie McBride isn’t going to be some statistic. She’s not going to be forgotten.
Mackenzie McBride was going to grow up, because of us.
“So,” Lia said, a decidedly wicked glint in her eyes. “Who thinks this calls for a celebration?”
It was late September, the time of year when you could practically feel the last, labored breaths of summer as it gave way to fall. A slight chill settled over the backyard as the sun went down, but the five of us barely felt it, drunk on power and the unfathomable thing we’d just managed to do. Lia chose the music. The steady beat of the bass line drowned out the sounds of the tiny town of Quantico, Virginia.
I’d never really belonged anywhere before I joined the Naturals program, but for this instant, this moment, this one night, nothing else mattered.
Not my mother’s disappearance and presumed murder.
Not the corpses that had started piling up once I had agreed to work for the FBI.
For this instant, this moment, this one night, I was invincible and powerful and part of something.
Lia took my hand in hers and led me from the back porch onto the lawn. Her body moved with perfect, fluid grace, like she’d been born dancing. “For once in your life,” she ordered, “just let go.”
I wasn’t much of a dancer, but somehow, my hips began to keep time to the music.
“Sloane,” Lia yelled. “Get your butt out here.”