I picked up the clipboard and flipped through the pages, my thumb tracing the column of dates.

“Vance, look at this,” I said.

The investigator walked over, his boots clicking softly against the concrete.

“These manifests are dated from last Tuesday,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the page.

“And they are signed by Gregory’s chief logistics officer,” Vance observed.

“This isn’t old history,” I said. “This is happening right now.”

“He’s still using your father’s old shipping routes,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling.

I looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Daniel always said the desert warehouses were the key,” she said, looking around the cold room.

“He found out Gregory was using military transport trucks to move private cargo,” she added.

“And when Daniel tried to report it, Gregory had him silenced,” I said, the anger rising in my throat.

“I didn’t want to believe it back then,” Eleanor said, looking down at her shoes. “I was too afraid.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” I said, taking her hand. “The proof is right here.”