He glanced at the screen.

His expression changed from anger to confusion, then to pure dread.

He looked from the phone to me, his eyes widening.

“What is this?” he whispered.

My pocket felt heavy where the second memory card sat.

But then I realized.

The first card.

I had sent the financial files to Sophia Reyes before I entered the house.

She must have just processed them.

Wade’s phone began to ring, the screen flashing with Deputy Reyes’s name.

The sharp, electronic tone seemed to echo off the kitchen tiles.

“Answer it, Thomas,” I said.

Wade’s thumb hovered over the screen.

He didn’t lower his revolver, but his aim drifted slightly to the left.

He swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Wade,” he said.

His voice sounded thin, stripped of its usual authority.

I could hear the metallic buzz of Sophia’s voice leaking through the receiver.

“Sheriff, the state bureau just flagged an automatic upload of the Reed family’s offshore accounts,” Sophia said.

Wade did not speak.

“It contains the transaction logs for your personal consulting firm, Sheriff,” she said. “And the clinic’s private ledger.”