The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(89)

I step forward to take her hands. “Eliza Sterling, and this is Agent Brandon Eddison and retired Detective Ian Matson. We started making connections based on the research Detective Matson brought us. And this is Agent Sachin Karwan, who gave us your daughter’s file as a possible connection.”

She glances at the quilt-covered gurney, then up at Bran’s face. “You’re family.”

He nods.

Mrs. Lattimore steps past me and wraps her arms around him, squeezing tightly enough to make him oof. “She must be so proud of you.”

Bran looks to me, but I shake my head and point to Faith. I’m proud of him too, of course, but she means Faith. He looks about as comfortable as he ever is with strangers hugging him—which is to say, not at all—but after a minute he manages to pat her shoulders without being too awkward about it.

When she releases him, Mrs. Lattimore turns and does the same for Karwan, and then for Ian. “Thank you,” she says, her voice tight with fresh tears. “Thank you for finding our girls.”

Fisher clears her throat, holding up her phone with a frown when we all turn to look at her. “Weather’s going to get worse in a few hours,” she says.

“Bad enough to close the airport?” asks Karwan.

“Possibly. I know this is shitty timing, but I also know you three”—she points to me, Ian, and Bran—“were planning on flying out tonight. Do you need to get back soonest, or are you able to hang around a day or two in case they close the runways?”

I know the correct answer; I’m not sure I know the right answer. I need to get back as soon as I can. We still need to talk to Davies. Vic’s last update relayed no progress on that score. I need to check on all the other locations, make sure there haven’t been problems with official identifications of the remains. Make sure the families have all been notified. Should probably help Watts put together the press release so she can break the story. With so many people aware of it now, it’s going to happen sooner than later.

But if Bran needs to stay, if he needs this time with his sister . . . I don’t want to leave him.

He gives one last look to his sister as the gurney is tucked into the back of the ME’s van, then gives me a small, pained smile. “Let’s go home.”

“Will you promise to let the girls fuss over you?”

“Are you calling Marlene and Jenny girls?”

He’ll be okay. Eventually.

“Ian?”

“I’d like to be there for the announcement,” he says quietly. “I need to rest, I know that, and I will. But I’d like to be there for the announcement.”

“All right.”

Karwan, however, is going to stay. This is home now, and I suspect as soon as Erin’s body is released, he’ll be flying down to Tampa again to escort her back to her parents in Chicago. He leaves his bag in the trunk to retrieve later but gives each of us a hug.

“Well, Eliza,” he says when he gets to me. He laughs helplessly.

“Take care of your sister,” I tell him. “It’s going to be hard on her.”

“Yes. But after the first pain . . .” He smiles, and generous lines curve around his mouth. “At least we know. We will always mourn them, but at least now they can all be put to rest among family.” He glances at Bran, who’s helping Ian into the car. “I’m glad he has you, Agent Eliza Sterling. You’re good for him. And if he’s not just as good for you, let me know. I’ll transfer to Quantico and kick his ass.”

I grin and shake my head. “Not necessary, but thank you. We’re good for each other.”

Fisher drives us back to the airport. We fly out almost immediately, connecting to Richmond through Dallas–Fort Worth for some unfathomable reason. Omaha is a regional airport, so okay, fewer options, but going due south and then along the diagonal when we could have just gone due east? Not sensible.

None of us have eaten today—and we should have been taking better care of Ian—so we grab some fast food and shove it in our faces. A conversation with the gate agent while Ian and Bran are finding a bathroom produces a cot, pillow, and blanket from the stash kept around for canceled flights or weather-stranded passengers who can’t leave the airport overnight. I set it up against a bank of windows where there’s a little more space available.

He gives it the stink-eye when he returns, but it’s a sign of how poorly he feels that he stretches out on it without actual protest and falls asleep almost immediately. He hasn’t admitted it, but I suspect his headache has been raging for a couple of days, and he hasn’t taken anything for it so he can be clear headed for the searches. That kind of constant pain is immensely draining.

Bran and I spend the first two hours of the layover on our phones, him with his parents and me with whatever combinations of Vic, Watts, Gala, Yvonne, Ramirez, and Kearney happen to be in the conference room at that moment. At one point even Agent Dern is in there and asks how Eddison is holding up.

Around the two-hour mark, he wanders off to find a barista willing to sell their soul to make his eldritch coffee, and comes back with his demon drink and a hot chocolate for me. We settle down on the floor of our gate, at Ian’s feet, and set our backs against the windows. Bran holds up his arm to let me curl in close.

“The hermanitas had to learn how to sew for one of their merit badges,” he says after a while. “They were so excited about it too. They were going to sew like Mamá. Only Mamá had years of practice and they didn’t.”