“Federal investigators, media organizations, your company’s board, and three independent attorneys.”
Julian leaned closer.
“You have enough evidence to destroy dozens of people.”
“We have enough evidence to begin.”
Ava looked at me.
“If you send it, they’ll release the forged documents first.”
The man nodded.
“Correct.”
“You’ll make Ryan look responsible.”
“Only temporarily.”
“How long is temporarily?”
“That depends on whether truth survives longer than accusation.”
I stared at the upload icon.
One click could send the files.
Or trigger another trap.
The man on the screen watched patiently.
“Why give me the choice?”
“Because your report showed you follow evidence even when authority tells you to stop.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only answer that matters.”
Brooke wiped her face.
“What happens if he refuses?”
The man’s image flickered.
“Then another candidate will be selected.”
“Candidate for what?”
The screen went black.
Only the red upload icon remained.
Beneath it were two buttons.
SEND.
DELETE.
A timer appeared again.
One hour.
Julian paced the kitchen.
“We need to copy the files.”
The laptop had no ports except a power socket. The wireless controls were locked. The screen seemed to be running from somewhere else, streamed through hardware we could not access.
Ava sat at the table.
“My father built systems like this.”
Julian turned.
“You said he owned a construction company.”
“He did publicly.”
“What did he do privately?”
“I don’t know.”
Brooke looked at her sister.
“You knew more than you told me.”
“Yes.”
“How much more?”
Ava stared at the photograph on the counter.
“When Dad died, I found a safe-deposit key in his desk.”
“You told me there was nothing left.”
“I lied.”
“Clearly.”
“The box had passports, cash, and photographs of people I had never met.”
“Did you keep them?”
“No. Someone emptied the box before I could go back.”
Julian stopped pacing.
“Who knew you opened it?”
“One bank employee.”
“Name?”
“Thomas Hale.”
The same man marked P on Julian’s list.
The same man whose death had a date beside it.
“When did he die?” I asked.
“Three months later.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Julian looked at the timer.
Forty-seven minutes.
“This network has been operating for years.”
Ava nodded.
“And Ryan’s report threatened one part of it.”
I looked at her.
“So you agreed to frame me.”
“I agreed to make you stop digging.”
“You could have told me.”
“They showed me photographs of you leaving work, eating lunch, walking through the hardware store.”
“You still could have told me.”
“They showed me Brooke’s apartment.”
Brooke’s anger faltered.
Ava turned toward her.
“They knew when you went running. They knew which window stuck open. They knew the name of the neighbor you trusted.”
Brooke crossed her arms around herself.
“That does not excuse what you did.”
“No.”