I wasn’t comfortable with the situation. If I hadn’t promised Araneae connection to her best friend from the beginning, we wouldn’t be here. We’d be safely tucked away with Lorna and Reid, high in the sky in Chicago. The medical center was too open, too exposed, and yet I didn’t see any options to avoid where we were. Instead, we did the best with what we had. Between Patrick and I, we’d taken all the precautions we could, men watching the entrances and exits and men stationed near the entrance to the women’s wing and the labor and delivery department—the one Araneae had just seen. Even the nursery was being watched. That was being monitored by Shelly, Patrick’s operative here. A woman in the nursery was less suspicious than a man. Marcel, the man Lindsey introduced as her boyfriend, was also a Sparrow.

Watching over someone and fraternizing were two different things.

That would be dealt with, just not here and now.

It was obvious by his expression that he didn’t plan on seeing me in Boulder.

The task at hand was too much for our four associates and the ones we had here on the ground. That meant that once again we’d called on Carlos’s men for help. As Araneae went back into the waiting room to her old world, my gaze went to the window in the hallway.

The sky was beginning to lighten, yet even with the breaking of dawn, the outside protection from the cartel was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t mean they’d let us down. It meant that they were the shadows of this domain. That’s what they did, how they operated, what they preferred. My men weren’t from here, weren’t recognizable. That was why the Sparrows were inside and the cartel was outside.

Before Patrick and I made our way back into the waiting room, I turned my direction to him. “What do you think about what Araneae said about Neal Curry?”

His head shook. “I think it’s a fucking clue, maybe the missing piece Reid needs to track down the Marshes.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Again, the warning about the Sparrows.”

Though his lips flattened, Patrick didn’t answer.

If my father had helped hide her, why were the warnings always about Sparrow?

“My father knew she was alive—he’d shown me her pictures—until McCrie was killed. That’s when Josey Marsh rushed Araneae to the airport and Kennedy ended up here.” I was thinking aloud, unsatisfied to be in the waiting room around too many people. “If Lucille Nelson is telling the truth...” There was no motivation for her to lie. She could have simply never told Araneae. “...then the letter accompanied Araneae to the boarding school. It was the same time as McCrie died and Araneae was moved away.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t think my father killed nor ordered McCrie killed. The other day, McFadden practically admitted to ordering the kill of McCrie. Something we may never know is why.”

Patrick nodded. “What happened ten years ago? What rocked the boat? What caused McFadden to turn on McCrie and Allister to turn on Araneae?”

“It was the same time as when they exhumed the remains in the grave in Cambridge,” I said. “The same time my mother said my father thought he’d been lied to, that Araneae was really in the grave, not the teenager he’d been watching.”

“No offense, Sparrow, but I don’t trust your mother, her memory or honesty.”

“It’s fucking hard to learn secrets that have been buried for a decade or more,” I admitted with exasperation in my tone. “I agree with you, but my mother seemed adamant. What I don’t trust—or should I say who I don’t trust—was her source. My father could have easily lied.”

“It seems,” Patrick said, “the only living player in the three-way scenario with Allister, Daniel, and Rubio...is Rubio.”

“Who the hell is or was Neal Curry?”

“Someone who knew Araneae was alive after she was rushed out of Chicago. Someone who knew exactly where she'd show up.”

“The obvious answer would be the Marshes,” I said. “After all, Araneae said her mother rushed her to the airport and gave her the new identity. We need to be sure the letter addressed Araneae as Kennedy.”

Patrick nodded as he looked down at his phone.

“Reid probably isn’t awake,” I said. “When he is, I want to know what he can learn about Neal Curry as soon as he learns it.”

Our man back in Chicago had a full plate. What with our normal activities in and around the city, learning the contents of the lockbox, and tracking down Neal Curry, it was a lot for even Reid. Patrick and I needed to get back to Chicago to do our part.

Patrick looked up from the screen of his phone. “Reid’s awake. He just texted me and said he’s on the Curry thing.” Patrick continued to read. “It sounds like he’s also been up most of the night. When Lorna fell asleep, he went to two.”

“Did he say how she’s doing?”

Patrick’s eyes moved from the screen to my gaze. With a slight shake of his head, his lips curled upward.

“Fine,” I replied to his smirk. “Araneae is making me soft.”

“It’s not soft, Sparrow. It’s compassion. Doesn’t always work in this world, but it’s not a bad thing to have, especially not for the right people.”

I grunted.

It was new for me, and it wasn’t.

The people who resided in our apartment were there for one reason. I fucking gave a shit about them. They were to me like the people in the waiting room were to Araneae. They were the weakness of Araneae’s that I’d purposely exploited. She gave a shit about those people. That’s why we had Sparrows here on the ground until this thing with McFadden and Araneae was settled.

I just wasn’t certain what settled would mean. According to my mother, it meant obliteration.

“Lorna’s still asleep,” Patrick replied, pulling me from my thoughts and relaying the information on his screen. “Reid also said he’s making progress breaking the encryption. With the age of the data storage, he believes the bit key will be comparatively shorter than if it had been encrypted today. His biggest problem was breaking into the out-of-date storage devices without damaging the data.”

It could be compared to video games. I never had time for that shit. The war I played was real. However, we have capos with excellent hacking skills, surfers of the dark web, who began their education as gamers. Reid had to figure out how to essentially play a twenty-six-year-old video game on a new, incompatible console.

“He broke through the issues with reading the CDs,” Patrick said, “and has multiple computers running, devoted to finding the encryption scheme.”

In my head I imagined the screens upon the wall on floor two, the data spinning and running with all the possibilities until the right one was found. With the computer power we had in our operation, literally thousands of possible schemes could be attempted per second.

The door from the waiting room opened.

Araneae’s cheeks were wet and eyes red.

“What is it?” I asked, rushing toward her.

“She’s here.”

My pulse increased as I reached for Araneae’s shoulders. “And...is she—?”

Araneae reached for her phone and swiped the screen, bringing a picture to life.