“They work for me, not my mother,” Brandon said, turning back to me. “I pay them triple what the county does.”

“You’re corrupt,” I said.

“I’m practical,” he corrected.

I adjusted my stance slightly, letting my hand drop away from my holster but keeping my muscles primed.

“You want the flash drive,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “The drive has the financial records. The proof that my mother has been laundering money through the hospital charity fund to pay off Ethan’s victims.”

“And what do I get?” I asked.

“You get Emily,” he said. “And you get the Prescott name off her back forever.”

“That’s not enough,” I said. “I want Ethan in a cell.”

“I can make that happen,” Brandon said. “But I need that drive to force my mother’s hand.”

He reached into his breast pocket.

I instantly tensed, ready to strike if he pulled a weapon.

Instead, he pulled out a thick, manila envelope folded in half.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A gesture of good faith,” he said. “Something to prove I’m serious.”

He held it out to me.