“Where are you, Sophia?” Wade asked.

“I am securing the local database,” she said. “The federal authorities have already been notified. It is over.”

The line went dead.

Wade slowly lowered the phone, his face draining of color.

He looked like a man who had suddenly stepped off a ledge into empty air.

“Thomas?” Vale croaked from the floor. “What did she say? What is happening?”

“Shut up, Owen,” Wade snapped.

He looked back at me, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find a way out.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Wade said. “Financial records are white-collar noise. My lawyers will tie that up in court for five years.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “I didn’t just find the money.”

I reached into my pocket with two fingers and pulled out my own phone.

“I told you to keep your hands still,” Wade said, but his voice lacked conviction.

I ignored him and tapped the screen.

The second memory card was already inserted into the reader port.

I bypassed the financial folders and opened the video directory.

The file was dated the night Emily died.