Chapter 2

The next morning, the cabin was a fortress of quiet tension. Dad had been on the phone all night with Ben' s contacts at the FBI, speaking in codes and hushed tones. Liam was pacing a groove into the wooden floor, occasionally glancing at me with a look that was half awe, half terror. Mom was trying to force-feed everyone soup, her primary method for dealing with any crisis.

"Ava, honey, are you hungry?" Mom asked, holding a bowl that was steaming with chicken noodle.

[I' m starving. But not for soup. I want a burger. A big, greasy one with extra cheese and bacon. And fries. And a milkshake. Why can' t we ever have normal problems that can be solved with burgers?]

Mom sighed, lowering the bowl. "We don' t have any burgers, Ava."

"I didn' t say anything," I mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

"You didn' t have to," Liam muttered from across the room. "Now I want a burger, too. Thanks."

Ben, who was propped up with pillows on the guest bed we' d moved into the living room, chuckled weakly. "You' ll get used to it," he told Liam.

"I really don' t think I will," Liam replied.

Dad walked back into the room, his face grim. He looked at Ben. "Jones and Smith are in position. They' re setting up a safe house in the city, but it' s going to take at least a day to make sure it' s clean. Thompson' s people are everywhere. They said he' s been making moves, trying to spin this as a rogue agent situation." He then turned to me. "Ava. Ben needs your help."

[Oh, here we go. I knew this was coming. The 'great responsibility' speech. I don' t want great responsibility. I want a great nap. I' m not a hero. I' m a professional couch potato with a freakish mental megaphone.]

"I know you don' t want to get involved," Dad said, his voice softening as he clearly heard my internal whining. "But you' re already involved. That agent' s life, and a lot of other lives, might depend on what' s in your head."

Ben pushed himself up a little straighter. "Ava, we need to know what Thompson is planning next. His inner circle, his movements. Anything you can pick up. My investigation hit a wall because I couldn' t get close enough. But you... you don' t have to be physically close. If we can get you a picture, a name... can you focus on someone?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes. It' s not an exact science. It' s easier if they' re famous or if I have a strong connection. A senator... maybe. He' s on the news a lot."

[Plus, if I help, maybe the FBI will give me a reward. A big one. I could buy my own little house, far away from everyone, with a state-of-the-art kitchen and a lifetime supply of snacks. And a soundproof room for when I want to think in peace. Okay, maybe I' ll help a little.]

My mood must have shifted, because Ben smiled. "There' s definitely a reward if we pull this off. I' ll see to it personally."

"I' m not doing it for a reward," I said out loud, trying to sound noble.

Liam snorted. "Sure you' re not."

A few hours later, a beat-up sedan rumbled up the drive. A man in a flannel shirt and a baseball cap got out. It was Agent Jones, one of Ben' s colleagues, looking nothing like an FBI agent. He came inside without a word and handed Ben a small, encrypted tablet.

"Thompson' s scheduled to give a speech at the Press Club this evening. It' s going to be broadcast live on all major networks," Jones said quietly. "It' s the best shot we have. We need to know who he talks to right before and right after. Who' s in his head."

"Ava can do it," Ben said with confidence.

I was less sure. I took the tablet and looked at the files Jones had brought up. Pictures of Senator Thompson, his chief of staff, his seemingly harmless assistant, Ms. Perkins. I focused on the senator' s smiling, charismatic face.

[Okay, let' s see what we' ve got here. Senator Thompson. Public servant. Man of the people. Secretly a ruthless criminal mastermind. Classic. He' s worried about Ben Carter. Good. He should be. He' s thinking about tightening security, making sure no loose ends are left. His assistant, Ms. Perkins... she' s the real keeper of secrets. She handles the money, the communication. She looks so plain, but she' s the one who hired the guys that came here yesterday. Dark secrets, indeed.]

Suddenly, a new stream of thought jumped into my head, this one from Ben. He was looking at the picture of Ms. Perkins.

[I wonder if she' s single. I mean, after this is all over. She' s kind of cute, in a severe, probably-a-secret-assassin kind of way.]

I burst out laughing. I couldn' t help it.

Ben' s face turned bright red. "What?" he demanded.

[He' s totally checking out the henchwoman! The man is bleeding out on my couch and he' s thinking about asking the villain' s secretary on a date. Men. Unbelievable. But also kind of hilarious. I' m definitely going to hold this over him.]

"Nothing," I said, still giggling. "Just thinking about... burgers."

Ben just stared at me, his blush deepening. He knew I was lying.

That evening, we all gathered around the television. Dad, Liam, Ben, and me. Agent Jones was parked a quarter-mile down the road, keeping watch. The broadcast began, and Senator Thompson walked up to the podium, smiling for the cameras.

I closed my eyes, focusing. It was like tuning a radio, trying to find a specific station through a sea of static. I pushed past the thoughts of the reporters, the cameramen, the audience, and honed in on the senator.

[...have to make sure the narrative is controlled. Carter is a disgruntled agent. Unstable. The counterfeiting story is a fabrication to cover his own crimes. Ms. Perkins has confirmed the clean-up team failed. The local sheriff is a problem, but a minor one. We' ll deal with him later. The priority is to discredit Carter and the investigation itself. After this speech, I' m meeting with the finance minister. He' s getting nervous about the plates. We need to reassure him.]

I opened my eyes. "He' s meeting with the finance minister right after this. He' s worried about the printing plates for the counterfeit money."

Ben' s eyes lit up. "The finance minister. I never could prove he was involved. This is it. Jones!" he yelled, knowing his agent was listening via a hidden microphone. "Target the finance minister. He' s the next link."

But then something else filtered through. It wasn't from the senator. It was a stray thought, full of fear and pain, from someone on the edge of the crowd.

[My heart... it' s happening again. The doctors said I was fine, but it' s not fine. The arrhythmia... it' s getting worse. Just need to make it through this...]

I looked around the room. "Someone there is having a heart attack."

Dad and Liam looked at the screen, trying to spot anyone in distress. But my focus was pulled back to Ben. He had gone pale, and his hand was pressed against his own chest. His breathing was suddenly shallow.

"Ben?" I asked, my voice tight with alarm.

[It' s not just the gunshot wound. He' s got an underlying condition. A congenital heart defect. The stress, the blood loss... it' s triggering a cardiac event. Oh god, he' s having a heart attack right now. A silent one. The wound is masking the symptoms. He has maybe ten minutes. No, less. Five.]

Dr. Reed was gone. We were alone. The storm from the day before had washed out the bridge on the main road, making it impossible for an ambulance to get to us quickly. My mind raced, pulling up every medical drama I' d ever watched, every anatomy chart I' d ever glanced at.

[Ventricular tachycardia. He' s going into V-tach. He needs a defibrillator. We don' t have one. We need to do CPR. But his wound... compressing his chest could kill him. Wait. The tablet. Jones gave him an encrypted military-grade tablet. The battery pack is high-voltage. If I can bypass the safety regulators... I can use it as a makeshift defibrillator. It' s insane. It could kill him. But he' s going to die anyway.]

"Dad!" I yelled, my voice sharp and clear. "He' s having a heart attack! Get me the tablet! The battery! I can use it!"

My dad and brother stared at me, stunned into inaction for a split second by the sheer insanity of what I was suggesting. But they trusted me. Liam lunged for the tablet, while Dad ripped open Ben' s shirt, preparing his chest.

The fate of a national security investigation and the life of an FBI agent rested on a crazy idea I' d pulled from the depths of my weird, loud brain. And I still really, really wanted a burger.