“We found traces of a synthetic neurotoxin in my blood,” Ethan continued, turning back to Jason.

“The exact compound was purchased through a shell company registered in Panama.”

“You can’t prove I had anything to do with that,” Jason hissed, his hands curling into fists.

Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver digital recorder.

He pressed the play button.

A voice came through the small speaker, distorted by static but unmistakably Jason’s.

“Keep the dose consistent,” Jason’s recorded voice said. “If he wakes up before the board votes on the merger, we both go down.”

A second voice, belonging to Dr. Harrison, replied, “The family is asking for an independent review.”

“I don’t care,” Jason’s voice snapped. “Pay off the nurse. Just keep him under.”

Ethan pressed the button again, and the audio cut to silence.

The library was so quiet I could hear the rain lashing against the glass behind the heavy drapes.

“That recording was recovered from Dr. Harrison’s personal phone,” Ethan said.

“He turned it over to the state police an hour ago in exchange for a plea deal.”