Semua Bab Betrayed Hearts and Second Chances: Bab 11 - Bab 19

Sharon Don had never gone to prison.Tyler had the truth within two hours, pulled from court records and a contact at the Federal Detention Center who owed him a favor. Sharon's guilty plea had been entered, accepted, and then quietly vacated on a procedural technicality three days later, an error in the arraignment paperwork that a diligent clerk had apparently flagged. Sharon's attorney had filed for release pending re-arraignment. A judge Monica had never heard of had approved it the same afternoon.No press release. No notification to Rodriguez's office. No public record update."Someone managed this," Tyler said. He had legal pads spread across the kitchen table, his handwriting filling margins. "This doesn't happen through luck or paperwork error. The technicality was manufactured. The clerk was either paid or pressured. The judge..."He paused. "I need to make another call.""Rodriguez," I said.George looked at me."Someone in the FBI knew Sharon was released and didn't tell u

The hospital was white with fluorescent and too loud.I sat in a plastic chair outside the surgical suite with Georgia asleep across my lap, one of my hands on her back to feel her breathing, and I let myself be completely still for the first time in twenty-four hours.The bullet had hit George's left shoulder. Through-and-through, the paramedic had said, which was apparently good, which was apparently the best possible version of someone you loved being shot. It had struck the shoulder joint, missed the subclavian artery by less than two centimeters, and the surgical team was repairing the damage with the brisk efficiency of people who did not believe in dramatic pauses.Silver had been the one to get Germany's gun. Simon's people had held Sharon and Linda Carthage until the police arrived, not the Rodriguez's people, but city police, because I had called 911 from that room and stated the address clearly so there would be a public, untamperable record of what happened there. Germany

George came home on a Tuesday.Not to his penthouse, he was already there. What I mean is he came home the way people do after something has broken them open and put them back together slightly differently. Quieter. More careful with the space around him.His arm was in a sling. He refused the prescription painkillers and accepted ibuprofen instead, which I noted but didn't comment on. He sat at the kitchen island while I made tea neither of us had asked for, and Georgia climbed onto the stool beside him and studied his bandages with the focused concern of a three-year-old medical professional."Does it hurt?" she asked."A little.""I had a hurt once," she said seriously. "On my knee. Mama kissed it."George looked at me over her head. Something in his expression was almost unbearable."That sounds like a good treatment," he said.Georgia nodded, satisfied, and slid off the stool to retrieve her rabbit from the living room, already done with the conversation in the way of small child

Rodriguez sent a sweep team within the hour. Four agents, equipment cases, systematic and silent.George and I took Georgia to the building's private lounge on the third floor while they worked. Georgia colored. George watched the door. I sat with my phone face-down on the table and tried to do the thing I'd told him to do... think before moving.The sweep took two hours. When Rodriguez called, her voice carried the particular flatness of someone delivering information they wish they didn't have."One device found. A listening mic behind the ventilation panel in the main hallway. No visual surveillance, we checked every room." She paused. "Based on the device model, it's been active for approximately two weeks."Two weeks. Germany had been listening since before the Astoria rescue. Since before George came home from the hospital. Since before every conversation Monica and George had fumbled their way through in the kitchen at midnight.I told George when we came back upstairs. He took