Chapter 22
A month later…
The morning service felt like déjà vu—stiff, familiar, and heavy with a grief that refused to lift. The preacher's words echoed in the background: "God calls the good ones early, shielding them from the dangers of this world." I couldn't help but wonder does being murdered violently still count as divine protection? Was that God's way of keeping David safe from worse things to come?
David lay in the open casket, resting peacefully for the first time since that horrific night. This was the first I'd seen him since the murder. The final farewell had been delayed for weeks; my sister just couldn't let go. I scanned the graveyard, the silent tombstones bearing witness to another addition in their realm. I wondered, did Cole get a farewell like this? Somehow, I doubted it.
I held my sister tightly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from David, and I swallowed my own tears for her sake. Together, we tossed black dirt over the coffin as it descended into the earth. The pastor murmured final prayers, and guests began lining up to offer condolences.
I wasn't worried about leaving my sister, not anymore. She'd kept her word, taken steps forward, and with our aunt by her side, I knew she wouldn't be alone.
I excused myself quietly and spotted Russell. He had come for the funeral, standing in the distance with his hands in his pockets. I grabbed his arm.
"Let's go," I said briskly.
He blinked at me. "Go where?"
"You'll see. Just open the car."
He stared at me, clearly baffled, but obeyed. I climbed in and fastened my seatbelt. He was still standing there, hesitant.
"I'll explain on the way. Just drive."
With a sigh, he got in. His eyes flicked toward my sister, then back to me, questioning. I said nothing and pointed to the road.
He pulled away from the curb, the graveyard slowly disappearing in the rearview mirror. I tapped an address into the GPS and closed my eyes.
The past month had been a blur. No major events, just subtle intimidation. NRI officials had set up an office right next to ours, calling it a "new department," but we knew better. They were watching us. Closely. They reduced our workload under the guise of "supporting other teams," which made life easier but it was obvious: they didn't trust us.
And just as we feared, Cole's murder had been swept under the rug, labeled a retaliatory killing, case closed. We played along. Our jobs were dangling by a thread, and the NRI seemed particularly interested in my last conversation with Dr. Quist. They didn't get the answers they wanted, and that made them nervous.
The car rolled to a stop. I got out. Russell stayed put, eyeing me warily.
"Not until you tell me where we are," he said, arms folded.
"You'll see."
"See what? You dragged me from a funeral and hijacked my car. Who are we meeting?"
"We. We are meeting someone. Now come on." I pulled him out, locked the doors, and marched toward the building.
He followed reluctantly, defeated. The elevator ride was silent except for the tension bouncing between us. I gave him a look. He gave me one back. Classic.
We exited and made our way down the hallway of a nondescript apartment building. I stopped at a door, checked the number on a scrap of paper I'd brought, phones left in the car, just in case and knocked. Russell frowned harder. Typical.
The locks clicked, and then the door opened slightly.
Sam.
Russell's frown deepened. I walked in without a word.
What I didn't expect was the man sitting on the worn couch: the Chief.
"What is he doing here?" I asked Sam with deliberate disrespect, finishing it with a fake smile. "No strangers allowed, remember?"
"I invited him," Sam said quickly. "He's been helping me."
Russell stood near the door, eyeing the space. The apartment was sparse, minimal furniture, no decorations. It was a hideout. A carefully curated one. Sam's second identity lived here.
Sam was the reason I hadn't gone nuclear on the NRI. Because he was the anonymous reporter they'd been trying to silence. I found out two years ago when a popular politician was assassinated, shot multiple times at close range during a campaign rally. Sam had accidentally left documents at the office with details no one else could have known. Hours later, those same details appeared in a scathing report that torpedoed an NRI-backed candidate's campaign.
I never said a word. Until a week ago.
Russell turned toward me, clearly still out of the loop.
"Someone want to explain why we're all here?"
"Sam's the reporter the NRI's been hunting," I said, settling into a chair and leafing through some documents.
"You what?" Russell shot to his feet. "You just… drop that on me now?"
"She's known for two years," the Chief added helpfully, grinning.
"The heck, Stacy!"
"I kept it quiet for his safety. The fewer people who knew, the better. I'm sorry."
"Too late for that," Russell muttered, shedding his suit jacket in frustration.
"To be fair," I added, "I only confronted him a week ago. That's when he started helping us. He also went to see Cole's mom."
Russell's expression shifted.
"She's not crazy," I said.
"How'd you find out?" he asked the Chief.
"I've always known. Sam's not as slick as he thinks. He leaked the budget cut story. I got beat up for that, being the direct contact." The Chief looked at me. I looked away.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You better be. I considered draining your bank account," he joked, shaking his head. "Anyway, the Commissioner, my former classmate is cocky and dirty. I've suspected for years that he's involved with the NRI. I just want proof."
"So… you're jealous he got promoted?" I teased.
He gave me a strained smile. "Let's call it justice. And no more jokes."
Sam returned with a stack of papers. "Here's what I've got so far. The NRI raided Dr. Quist's office, but they're still missing something. Cole was first taken in by NRI after he killed his father, his first transformation. The description didn't match him, so the case went cold. His mother suspected something was wrong and brought him to the hospital. That's when the NRI swooped in. They used him. Weaponized him. I can confirm they also killed Callum Tate two years ago. Never caught the killer."
"The politician?" Russell asked.
Sam nodded. "I had left documents at the office that hinted at that. That's how Stacy found out about me."
"They used Cole for small crimes at first," Sam continued. "Robbery, arson. Each time, the cameras picked up a different face. They were testing his limits. When he succeeded, they escalated. Callum was killed at close range. No leads. I started connecting the dots. Visited each crime scene. I always found a trace of hair, blood, skin tissue. All Nick Cole."
"But his records stopped at age 18," Russell said. "No social security after that."
"Exactly," Sam said. "They buried him inside the NRI."
"How did you track him, if he kept changing?" I asked.
"Pure luck. About two months ago, I saw a man faint in the park. I followed him to the hospital. Went to the bathroom. Came back, different face, same scar. Same bed. I was stunned. Then I followed him… right to the Institute."
"Then what about Dr. Quist? Why give him to her?" I asked.
"After Callum's death, the NRI stopped their regular ad campaigns. Suddenly, Dr. Quist appeared with a new youth intervention program. He was her first case. They even put Cole on national TV."
"What?!" I exclaimed.
Sam inserted a USB into his laptop and played a commercial from two years ago. Dr. Quist sat in her office. Cole was with her, different face, same scar. Their voices muted as a narrator spoke.
Jamie had joined that program. I fought back the bile rising in my throat.
"They aired it for a week. Then pulled it."
"Probably to see if anyone would recognize Cole," Russell guessed.
Sam nodded. "Yesterday I went back to Quist's office. NRI is still sniffing around. I think they're looking for something."
"I have it," I said, pulling out a brown envelope and spilling the contents onto the table.
The Chief's eyes widened as he read. Sam flipped through the papers like a man possessed.
"Where did you get these?" he asked.
"Dr. Quist. When she realized she might not get out, she gave them to me. These were accidentally added to Cole's file."
"They show NRI used him to kill people," Russell said grimly. "Anyone who opposed them."
"This isn't just about David anymore," I said. "It's bigger. Much bigger."
Sam leaned against the wall. "I want to release this. Now."
"You'll be found," I warned. "They know someone's leaking info. I thought it was me. Now I think it's you."
"If not me, then who? No one else will."
He wasn't wrong. Media houses ignored him. Everyone was afraid.
Silence settled over us.
"This story is insane," I said. "No one will believe it. Shape-shifter assassin controlled by a secret institute? It sounds like fiction."
"We don't need to explain it," the Chief said suddenly. "Just release the data. No commentary. Let people draw their own conclusions."
Sam perked up. "He's right."
"But how?" I asked, for the third time.
"There's an event on Monday at NRI headquarters," Sam said. "Big event. High profile. Investors, international figures. It'll be broadcast live."
"We're two days out," I said. "How do we get in?"
"I can bring you," the Chief said. "I'm still a department head. But I can't help once we're inside."
"Then we better make a plan," Russell said, rising to his feet and clapping his hands.