I traced the contractor. Walter watched her expression change. David continued. The person who accessed the security archive works for Crest Line Systems, we knew that. Crest Line has a financial relationship with a consulting company tied to Richard Grant's business network.
Maya stood. Are you saying Richard paid them to erase it? I'm saying I can prove the contractor had a business connection to him, but not why they accessed Hawthorne. Not yet. Maya's brief surge of hope faltered.
David heard it. Don't do that. Do what? Turn incomplete proof into no proof. Walter smiled faintly at that.
David continued. The access wasn't scheduled. There was no service ticket. Someone entered the system after the reception and removed exactly 47 seconds. Maya looked through the rain toward Hawthorne's lights.
That matters. Yes, enough, not by itself. Maya's stomach tightened. David lowered his voice. But if we recover any independent recording showing what those 47 seconds contained, then whoever erased the official footage has a much bigger problem.
Jason, the name passed between them without being spoken. Maya hung up and looked at Walter. He found this contractor and connected financially to Richard's business. Walter nodded slowly. Truth's getting closer.
Maya looked back toward campus. For the first time that evening, the university didn't look like somewhere she was escaping from. It looked like somewhere she might still have a reason to return. Back in her dorm room an hour later, Maya lifted the folded clothes out of the suitcase one piece at a time. Monica watched from her desk.
You staying until the hearing and after, Maya placed Walter's old jacket back in the closet. One truth at a time. Then Monica's phone buzzed, a message from an unfamiliar number. She opened it. Her face changed.
What? Monica turned the screen toward Maya. It was Jason. I need to talk to you, not on campus. Tyler can't know.
Maya read it twice. Below the message was a second line. I deleted the video. Her hope collapsed. Then a third message arrived.
But I think my phone backed it up first. Maya looked at Monica. Outside, Thunder rolled somewhere beyond Richmond. The suitcase remained open on the bed. But nothing was inside it anymore.
Monica read Jason's message one more time. I deleted the video. But I think my phone backed it up first. Maya stood beside her desk, still holding the last folded shirt she had removed from the suitcase. Call him.
Monica shook her head. He said not on campus. Then ask where. Jason replied less than a minute later. A 24 hour diner off Broad Street.
20 minutes. Maya reached for her jacket. Monica stopped her. He asked for me. He was recording what happened to me.