Chapter Six
The children’s hospital changed the shape of what Carissa and Matt were looking for and the urgency to find answers. But this was a major incident that would not fly under the radar. Not the publics and certain not alphabet agencies.
The earlier incidents looked accidental and could be covered up for the public’s consumption. A small town barely big enough to hold the news cycle. A second strike that grew louder only because it brushed against political interest. Serious, yes. But containable. Manageable, at least in the public mind.
This wasn’t that.
This was an exclamation mark.
Matt felt it immediately—low, physical. A tightening that didn’t resolve when he shifted position or changed tasks. The pattern felt the same. The intention felt the same. No proof yet—nothing he’d accept as confirmation. But the sense of continuity refused to let go.
After dinner, he tried to sleep.
It didn’t come easily. His body rested without surrender. Thoughts rose and fell, unformed, never completing. He didn’t replay Istanbul. He didn’t think about Petra. This incident pushed everything else aside without needing permission.
He was awake well before dawn.
The lake still held summer warmth. The air had cooled. Early fall announcing itself in the margins. Matt stripped down on the dock and stepped into the water without hesitation. It closed over him—warmer than the air for the first few seconds, a brief inversion that forced his breath to steady or fail.
He swam hard.
Long strokes. No counting. Just breath and movement, until thought had no room to intrude. This wasn’t escape; it was alignment. When he finally stopped and floated on his back, the sky was just beginning to thin toward light.
By the time he climbed out, his body was at rest. His mind was not.
Inside, towel at his waist, he saw the phone on the counter.
One missed call.
Carissa.
He checked the time. Just after seven-thirty.
He didn’t call back immediately. Not avoidance. Discipline. He dressed. Made breakfast. Ate without distraction. Hunger had no place in the conversation he knew was coming.
One thing was certain: Carissa wouldn’t have called unless she’d already connected something.
That unsettled him more than the news footage had.
When he finished, he left the dishes in the sink. Picked up the phone. Moved to the window overlooking the lake. And returned the call.
Carrissa confirmed their worst fears. This seemed to be connected, and she now had enough information to come to that conclusion. She gave Matt a quick synopsis of her finds and knew he was not fully paying attention. She told him she would send her findings, and they can talk just after noon.
Matt did not move; he just started out the window. Something equally devastating moved into his thoughts.