The following four days unfolded more quietly than Cole expected, and that quiet required adjustment. He had prepared his body for confrontation and danger, but there was little for his hands to do while investigators worked through documents and attorneys arranged interviews. The farmhouse moved into an improvised rhythm of shared meals, telephone calls, and repairs to small things that had been waiting for attention. Darla's stove needed cleaning. A door in the workshop stuck when the temperature fell. There were dishes to wash and enough laundry for an entire riding club.
On the first day, Cho's team obtained authorization to collect records from Garrett's firm and the logistics company. A regional news report mentioned an investigation into procurement irregularities, but most of the important details remained out of public view. Darla watched the announcement without triumph. She had spent too many years building the record to confuse the beginning of an investigation with its conclusion.
Evan sat in the main room while Cho explained the next steps on a secure call. His shoulders remained tense throughout. He had lived under assumed names long enough that hearing anyone speak his real name made him flinch. Mara sat beside him but did not hold his hand. She listened closely, asked practical questions about Eli's school, their vehicle, future travel, and how to contact someone if a new threat appeared. Cho answered what she could and said plainly when something required further review.
Cole watched from the doorway. Mara's questions were not romantic or dramatic. They were the questions of a woman who had managed rent, school forms, medical appointments, broken appliances, and frightening phone calls alone for eight years. The future had to work at the level of ordinary tasks before she could believe in it emotionally. Evan listened to her with an expression that showed he was beginning to understand how much life had occurred while he was away.
On the second day, Evan gave a detailed recorded statement. He described the warehouse, the men he saw, the threats delivered to his home, the orders that kept him moving, and every occasion on which he considered breaking them. He was sometimes precise and sometimes unsure. He told investigators when dates blurred together and corrected himself when a memory returned. Darla had taught him not to make his account more dramatic than the truth. The truth was sufficient.
Cole waited outside the room. He could hear Evan speaking through the wall, though not clearly enough to make out individual words. The sound reminded him of nights long ago when Evan talked beside campfires while Cole repaired something that had broken during the day. Back then they had assumed the road ahead would contain whatever they needed. They had not understood how much could be lost between two towns or two unanswered calls.
When Evan emerged, he looked exhausted in a way Cole had never seen. He stopped in front of his old friend. Neither spoke for a while.
"I should've called you," Evan said at last.