I caught a glimpse of a cheap, black plastic phone.

It was not her usual smartphone, which sat on the desk across the room.

This was a burner phone.

She pulled it out just enough to silence the screen, but I saw the glow.

A single message notification lit up the display.

I could not read the text, but the sender’s name was short.

My mind instantly raced to Jason.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, nodding toward her pocket.

“Just a personal matter,” she said, her face flushing a dull red.

She tucked the burner phone back into her pocket, but her hand was shaking.

I had never seen her nervous before.

Usually, she was the picture of professional indifference.

“I think I should stay with him tonight,” I said.

“That is out of the question,” Benson replied quickly.

“Mrs. Vivian Thornton’s instructions are absolute.”

“Vivian is downstairs,” I said, stepping between Benson and the door.

“She does not need to know.”

Benson took a step back, her eyes darting to the medical cabinet.

She noticed the drawer.

Her gaze lingered on the small gap where the binder peeked through.