Grant hit Owen's gun hand before Owen could fire.

The weapon discharged into the ceiling.

I dropped.

Grant drove Owen into the wall.

They crashed against the basement door.

Footsteps thundered upstairs.

“Go!”

Grant shouted.

I ran.

I reached the kitchen as a man in a black jacket came through the hallway.

He grabbed me.

I drove my elbow backward.

He cursed.

I twisted free just long enough to see a ceramic bowl on the counter.

I grabbed it and smashed it against the side of his head.

The man stumbled.

I ran upstairs.

“Miles!”

“Mom!”

His voice came from our bedroom.

I reached the door.

Locked.

“Move away!”

I stepped back and kicked beside the handle.

Nothing.

Again.

The frame cracked.

The third kick opened it.

Miles ran into me.

I dropped to my knees and wrapped both arms around him.

For one second, nothing else existed.

Then Rachel spoke from the corner.

“Laura.”

She was tied to a chair.

I rushed over.

A bruise darkened her cheek.

“Are you hurt?”

“I'm okay.”

I untied her.

Another gunshot sounded downstairs.

Miles flinched.

“Dad.”

I grabbed his shoulders.

“You stay with Aunt Rachel.”

“No.”

“Miles.”

“I just found him.”

His voice cracked.

“I don't want him disappearing again.”

I had no answer that could fix that.

Rachel took his hand.

“I've got him.”

I ran back toward the stairs.

The kitchen was empty.

The man I had hit was gone.

The basement door stood open.

I descended carefully.

Grant was on the floor.

Blood covered his shirt.

For one horrifying instant, I thought history had repeated itself.

Then he moved.

“Grant.”

I dropped beside him.

“It's not mine.”

He pointed.

The man from the kitchen lay unconscious near the furnace.

Owen was gone.

A side door stood open.

Grant tried to stand.

I helped him.

“Let him go.”

“Can't.”

“Yes, you can.”

“He has the duplicate drive.”

“Good.”

Grant stared at me.

Then he understood.

“If he thinks it's real, he'll take it to Vale.”

“And Vale will finally show us where he is.”

Sirens sounded outside.

Grant looked toward me.

“You planned that?”

“Dana did.”

For the first time, genuine surprise crossed his face.

I held up my phone.

“I called her before we climbed through the basement window.”

Grant almost smiled.

“You didn't tell me.”

“You don't get to complain about secrets.”

That wiped the smile away.

Fair enough.

Federal vehicles surrounded the house.

Agents rushed inside.

Dana Ruiz appeared moments later.

She was short, sharp-eyed, and furious.

She looked at Grant.

“You ignored a direct instruction.”

Grant nodded.

“Yes.”

Dana looked at me.

“And you?”

“I ignored him.”

Dana's mouth twitched.

“I already like you.”

Then her expression turned serious.

“Owen's car is heading east.”

Grant stood.

“Toward Vale?”

“Probably.”

Dana looked at both of us.

“If we're going to finish this, we do it my way now.”

Miles appeared at the top of the basement stairs.

“Dad?”

Grant looked up.

For the first time in three years, there was nothing stopping him from answering.

“I'm here, buddy.”

Miles ran down the stairs.

Grant dropped to his knees.

His son crashed into his arms.

Grant began to cry.

So did Miles.

I turned away because watching them hurt too much.

And because somewhere beneath the relief, another thought had begun to terrify me.

Grant was home.

But the man who had come home was still a stranger.