“Verification is not difficult.”
Harlan lit them anyway.
Evan stepped forward.
“Sheriff, stop.”
Harlan turned so quickly Evan froze.
“You want to go into the other cell?”
Silence.
The burning pages fell into the trash can.
Smoke climbed toward the ceiling.
Julian watched.
Then he sat down.
Harlan seemed disappointed.
“That’s it?”
Julian looked toward the clock.
10:01.
“No yelling?”
Julian shook his head.
“No.”
Harlan approached the cell.
“No what?”
“I don’t have anything else I need to say to you.”
Harlan walked away.
What he did not know was that Julian’s arrival window at Red Creek Defense Systems had begun fifteen minutes earlier.
At 10:18, Julian’s phone rang inside the property tray.
Nobody answered.
It rang again three minutes later.
Evan glanced toward the screen.
R. SLOAN — SITE SECURITY
“Sheriff.”
Harlan looked up.
“What?”
“His phone keeps ringing.”
“Let it.”
The phone stopped.
Then rang again.
Julian smiled faintly.
Evan noticed.
“Who is Rebecca Sloan?”
“Someone wondering where I am.”
Harlan laughed.
“Your secret commander?”
Julian looked away.
At Red Creek, Rebecca Sloan was staring at a visitor-arrival monitor.
She was fifty-five, a former Army logistics officer who now managed facility security compliance for the defense contractor. Julian had worked with her years earlier on a separate project, and she knew one thing about him almost better than anything else.
He was irritatingly punctual.
Not usually punctual.
Not professionally punctual.
The kind of man who arrived fifteen minutes early and apologized if traffic reduced that margin to twelve.
At 10:25, Rebecca called him again.
No answer.
She checked his travel email.
Vehicle.
Route.
Expected departure.
Emergency contact.
Then she called the project coordinator.
“Julian hasn’t checked in.”
“Traffic?”
“Maybe.”
She waited another five minutes.
Then dialed again.
This time somebody answered.
“Larkin County Sheriff’s Office.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Who is this?”
“Deputy Evan Mercer.”
“Why are you answering Julian Carter’s phone?”
Evan looked toward the back office.
Harlan had stepped away.
“He’s in custody.”
Rebecca became still.
“For what?”
“Possible document fraud.”
“What documents?”
“Military records.”
Evan hesitated.
“And contractor papers.”
Rebecca removed her glasses.
“Are the Red Creek documents intact?”
Evan looked toward the smoking trash can.
His face changed.
“No.”
Rebecca’s voice became quieter.
“What does no mean?”
“Some were destroyed.”
“Destroyed how?”
Evan swallowed.
“Burned.”
Silence.
“By whom?”