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Paper rustled at his side, he was already writing. “PS-23,” he repeated.

“And something about Reborn....N.R. Do you think it's Nolan Reid?” I pause and continue.

"Evaluation_Natalie_R. was on the motel drive Damien gave us the other time but Boone’s ledger uses initials.....N.R....could be Nolan or Natalie or both but the.....Reborn... makes my skin crawl.”

“Because it’s a cult word.” His voice sharpened....the sound he made when a puzzle piece finally clicked. “Okay. Send me pictures of the ledger pages. I’ll run them against the cipher I pulled from Elise’s notebook copies. I can’t do full analysis from here but I can get you a scaffolding.”

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “Alright. But how’s your wife?”

Silence. Then quietly said. “She’s… here, fine. Which is more than I deserve right now. We’re doing separate circle, same house but different orbits. I’m trying to make it overlap again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said and meant it. “I don’t want to be the reason that breaks you two.”

“You aren't...” he said. “The thing that breaks me is the same thing that tried to take you apart. We just happen to be standing in its path.”

A small watery laugh shook loose from my chest. “Your poetry has gotten worse.”

“Lack of sleep,” he said, and I heard the smile in it. Then the smile drained. “Cam....watch Damien.”

I stared toward the kitchen. Damien still hadn’t moved his hand from the faucet knob.

“Why?” I asked.

“If they can get to you,” Asher said with low voice. “they can get to him too. You said you woke with wet shoes and no memory of what happened. That suggests you were led. Who...better than the person you trust most? If not physically, then through a trigger.” He hesitated. “Be gentle but be sure.”

A small wooden feeling tightened around my heart. “I heard you, thanks.”

A door opened on his end, a little voice called, “Daddy?” and Asher exhaled.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Send me those pages."

When the call ended I sat perfectly still while the phone warm against my cheek. I texted him the pictures then thumbed open a new thread and hovered over Lena’s name. We hadn’t spoken beyond a handful of brittle messages in days.

"For your safety," she’d said. It felt like an obituary for us.

I typed 'Are you home?' ....deleted it then....typed 'I need you.' and sent it before I could take it back.

She answered a minute later, 'I’m here.'

I hit call.

Her voice when it came was careful like a hand hovering over a bruise. “Cam.”

My throat closed. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said, the words so soft I barely caught them. "Are you safe?”

I told her about Boone, Shepherd, the grave and the music box. I didn’t tell her about the whisper in the dark that said I should have drowned. Some things you can’t lay on a person you love.

When I finished, she was quiet then finally said. “I saw a newspaper last week, I didn’t tell you because I did not want to drag you deeper. It's like someone left it deliberately outside my shop." She pause and continue.

"There were series of articles on something called The Shepherd Initiative....pilot programs linked to precinct youth outreach in LA. The language is all glowing, so glowing it reads like a press release vomited onto newsprint. But Cam… there were names included.”

My nails dug into the couch seam. “Whose?”

“A Captain George, a Dr. S. Crane listed as a behavioral consultant on a task force and a handful of community partners, including St. Augustine Transitional Foster Program.” She said.

“I took photos, I can send them.” She added.

“Please do.” I said.

“And Cam?” She drew a breath. “Don’t go to see Crane alone ever again.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“Promise me.” She said.

“I promise,” I replied.

We hung up while a new text came in from Asher, all caps like he wanted to punch through a wall to get it g
to me....

KEY CONFIRMED.
PS-23 MAPS TO SHEPHERD.
“REBORN” TAG = SUBJECTS WHO SURVIVED PHASE II.
BETA/GREEN = MOVEMENT CLEARANCE.
SENDING TABLE, DO NOT FORWARD AND TRUST NOBODY.

An image followed...his rough matrix overlaying Psalm numbers with letters. In the corner he’d circled something.....

PS-23/6 -> “FOLLOW.”

“Follow who?” I whispered.

Damien’s reflection appeared in the TV’s black glass before he came into the room. He’d changed his shirt.

The new one was clean but when he bent to gather the dishes, I saw a small gauze square along the inside of his elbow, an angry dot of red at its center like a pinprick of a star.

“What happened there?” I asked, keeping my voice easy.

He glanced down as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Bumped a cabinet,” he said.

“With a vein?” I asked, lighter than I felt.

He smiled in that way I didn’t know. “Sharp corner.”

I nodded.

“I’m going to see Lena,” I said.

He looked up, frown knitting. “You just spoke to her.”

“I need her eyes on the cipher.” I replied.

“I can do it,” he said, too quickly. “Sit. I’ll do it.”

“I want her,” I said, and I didn't mean it how it sounded until after it left me.

Something flicked through his gaze...hurt maybe or the idea of it but it passed with the speed of a shadow under a streetlight. “Take the mug,” he said, nodding toward the tea. “You’ll need it.”

“I’ll be fine.” I replied.

He stepped closer with a gentle pressure of his palm to my forearm. His skin was warm while his pulse jumped under his wrist skin, too fast. “You’ll be better,” he said and the phrasing put ice in my throat.

“I’ll text you when I get there,” I said and pulled free.

He let me go.

At the door I glanced back, he’d returned to the kitchen and resumed arranging what was already arranged.

I got into the car and for a long minute, I only seat and stared at my hands. They didn’t look like mine anymore, they looked like tools.

Before I pulled out, my phone buzzed with a final text from Asher....
IF PS-23/6 = FOLLOW
THEN PS-23/4 = FEAR.
THEIR MAP LIVES IN LANGUAGE. THEY LEAD YOU WITH VERSES YOU ALREADY BELIEVE IN.

I thought of Dr Crane’s office, of the music box and the lullaby that had been mine until someone fed it back to me like a pill.

I started the car.