A paper crane in his palm. His fingers moving through black earth and damp fog. Noah sagging against him, giving all his worries over, taking shelter in the circle of Cole’s arms. Trusting Cole’s words. It was Noah’s job to rest. It was the FBI’s job to find Ingram. It was Cole’s job to take care of Noah. To keep him safe. To keep him alive. “Send me the case files. Send me everything. I’ll find his trail.”
