Frank shook his head. “Dave would never agree to that. If we want to know what Sterling’s planning, this is our best shot.”
“Just remember what we discussed,” William said, adjusting his earpiece. “Keep him talking, get him to confirm what files they’re looking for, and if possible, who paid for the photos of your daughter to be taken.”
Frank scanned the parking lot. “I’ve done this before.”
“It’s your first one wearing a wire,” William pointed out. “The tech guys said to keep your jacket closed if possible. And try not to cross your arms—it interferes with the audio.”
The lake stretched before them, its surface ruffled by a light breeze. On a normal day, the sight would have calmed Frank, but today the beauty of Flathead Lake barely registered. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, searching the parking lot for any sign of Dave.
His phone buzzed with a text from Tommy.
Ms. Chen says, hi! We’re making cookies for the book club.
Frank smiled despite the tension inside the truck. Tommy was spending the afternoon at the library with Mrs. Chen, safely away from whatever unpleasantness Dave might bring. Pastor John was with him, keeping him safe. He sent back a quick message telling Tommy to have fun before pocketing the phone.
Frank was grateful for the friends he’d made in Sapphire Bay. They were rallying around him to make sure Tommy was safe, even though they didn’t know why William was there.
“There he is,” William said, ducking lower in his seat as a sleek black rental car pulled into the lot precisely at noon. “Remember, we have backup watching from the bait shop across the road. If you feel threatened in any way, leave immediately.”
Frank nodded and took a deep breath. “Stay out of sight until I’m gone. We can’t risk him spotting you.”
Dave’s punctuality was one of the few things Frank had once admired about him. Now it just felt like another weapon in his arsenal.
“Good luck,” William murmured as Frank opened the door.
Frank stepped out of his truck, straightening to his full height. He wouldn’t give Dave the satisfaction of seeing how anxious he felt.
“Beautiful spot,” Dave called as he approached, dressed too formally in pressed slacks and a button-down shirt. His polished loafers looked absurdly out of place on the gravel path. “Everyone needs somewhere like this to come.”
“What do you want, Dave?” Frank kept his voice level, meeting the other man’s gaze directly.
Dave’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He gestured toward a nearby picnic table. “Shall we sit? Or would you prefer to stand like we’re in some kind of Western showdown?”
Without waiting for an answer, Dave settled at the table, placing his hands flat on the weathered wood. Frank reluctantly sat across from him, positioning himself to keep the parking lot in his peripheral vision.
“The Sterling case goes to trial soon,” Dave said without preamble. “The Department of Justice has been building their case for nearly two years. They’re confident they have all the evidence they need to put half the executive team in prison.”
“Good for them.”
Dave’s smile tightened. “The board is concerned. Your name keeps coming up in the prosecutor’s notes. They believe you have evidence beyond what was initially collected.”
Frank kept his expression neutral. “I gave my statement. I turned over everything they asked for.”
“Did you?” Dave leaned forward. “Because our sources say the prosecution has copies of internal communications that were supposedly destroyed in the server migration. Communications that only a handful of people had access to.”
Frank had suspected they’d eventually trace the files he’d copied, but he’d hoped it would be after the trial, after justice had been served.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank said evenly.
Dave sighed, looking almost disappointed. “When we worked together, I always thought your moral compass was admirable, if inconvenient. But this?” He shook his head. “Stealing confidential files? Passing them to federal prosecutors? That crosses a line, Frank.”
“Exposing illegal activity isn’t crossing a line. It’s doing the right thing.”
“The right thing,” Dave repeated, “is that what you tell yourself? That you’re some kind of hero?”
Dave reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Frank didn’t touch the envelope.
