“What about him?” Brandon asked, looking slightly annoyed.

“He killed Melissa Vance, didn’t he?” I asked.

“Yes,” Brandon said without hesitating. “He strangled her in the beach house.”

“And your mother covered it up,” I said.

“Of course she did,” Brandon said. “She paid the chief half a million dollars to make the file disappear.”

Every word was flowing directly to the federal task force.

“And now you want to use that murder to blackmail your way to the top,” I said.

Brandon smiled, a thin, sharp line.

“I call it leverage,” he said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver key.

“This is the key to the safe-deposit box where the rest of the physical evidence is kept,” he said.

“It’s yours, Hart. Just give me the drive.”

He held the key out between his fingers.

The green light in my pocket continued to pulse, silent and steady.

The storm outside seemed to grow louder, wind rattling the heavy window panes.

I stood perfectly still, my eyes locked on his.

The phone on the desk suddenly began to ring, its shrill tone piercing the quiet room.