Oscar claimed my chair like it was his. “To throw you off. It’s ballsy, but it works.”
I put those thoughts on hold and glanced at Nathaniel. “Did you run the tests?”
He nodded, no emotion. Like usual with him. "Yeah."
“…And?”
“Nothing.” He yawned, like the takedown was a story he'd heard eight thousand times. “No traces, no hidden logs, nothing actionable. We couldn’t link a single byte to him.”
I knew from his stern eyes and gaping mouth that Oscar wasn’t buying it.
He stood again, pacing in a circle before his hands dragged through his hair. “H-he could’ve wiped it clean. We know he’s good.”
My head dropped into my hands, hips aching. “I know, but we can’t run off hunches anymore. We need something concrete.”
“We had concrete,” Oscar reminded me, his arm outstretched behind him. “Concrete just walked out of the fucking building.Again.”
“Can we just, for one second, assume it’s not Jamie?” I tapped the desk, the tip of my finger turning red. My eyes were back on Oscar, burning with that fire that had always been constant with us. “Whoever’s behind this… they’re strategic. Smart. Jamie never had that kind of control.”
Oscar looked confused. “But the messages to Cora… he was there.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “But the timing was too perfect. The logs are, arguably, too clean. Like someone wanted us to think it was him.”
Nathaniel leaned forward. “There's something else.” He peered at Oscar. “The entries.”
My icy stare flicked to him too. “What fucking entries?”
He looked like wandering around my desk and showing me whatever they’d found was the last thing he wanted to do. He came round slowly, typed slowly, until the entries were on my screen. “I wasn’t watching the systems one night; it was just me in the office. I went to get coffee, and when I came back… some files were missing. Sensitive ones.”
“And the cameras? Wiped." Nathaniel added. "We couldn’t trace who accessed them.”
My fingers curled back into fists. “So someone got in. Took what they needed. And got out without a trace.”
“And knew exactly where to look,” Oscar muttered.
I stood back, bewildered. “When was this?”
My little brother peered up at me. “September 30th.”
The night Jamie came to Cora.
Everything I’d been through these past seven months ran through my mind like a broken montage, puzzle pieces that never fit before suddenly sliding into place.
My head shook, feeling heavy and empty all at once. “What if they’re connected?”
“Marcus?” Oscar muttered.
I stood back, staring at my computer like it had just spoken to me. “What if… everything—everything that’s been happening; the leaks, the breaches, Cora… what if they’re all connected?”
I felt my brother shuffle beside me; like one wrong move and I’d detonate. His hands lifted, like he was bracing. “Alright, just… calm down.”
My head whipped to face him. “I’m serious.” My ragged breaths nearly made me lose my balance. “Think about it. The night the Alcott files went missing, what happened?” My mind was on overdrive, and I answered for them. “Cora got her first message.”
Silence hung around us, but in my head it was like a dark symphony was playing.
“A-and the MAC address, when I found it in London, the next day that fucker called me; he knew where I was, knew Cora was listening, and baited me into losing her.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Oscar shaking his head. “But… the day you and Cora went to the Chelsea address, you saw Jamie type that text. It came through right away.”
