"But they were sabotage," Izzy pressed. "We have proof?—"
"Then I missed it." The admission seemed to break something in him. "I haven’t been…right…since Sarah died."
He looked up, and Izzy saw a man drowning in his own guilt.
"After she died, I couldn't..." He gestured helplessly. "Everything felt pointless. Going through the motions. I thought about quitting a million times, but what would I do all day? Maybe I wasn't as thorough as I should've been. Maybe I saw mechanical failure because that's all I could see anymore."
"Seven companies went under," Izzy said, but the heat had left her voice. "People lost their livelihoods."
"I know." Reed rubbed his face. "I've been telling myself I need to retire, but the job was all I had left. That and my wife.But Robyn’s shattered, too. Sarah loved flying. Loved that I kept people safe in the air."
The irony of it twisted like a knife. Izzy thought of Chantal, of what losing her would do to her ability to function. To care about anything.
"Did anyone pressure you?" Cory asked. "Suggest certain findings? Offer guidance on your reports?"
Reed shook his head. “If what you say is true, they didn’t have to." He laughed bitterly. "You want to know what twenty million buys? Nothing. Absolutely nothing that matters."
"The other investigators," Izzy tried. "Did you coordinate with?—"
The window exploded.
The crack of a rifle shot followed a heartbeat later—long distance, high-powered. Izzy's world contracted to that single instant: Reed's eyes widening in shock, Cory already moving, and her own body dropping to the floor as military instincts overrode conscious thought.
29
Crystalline death showereddown as the window exploded.
Cory's body moved before his mind caught up, fifteen years of training compressed into pure instinct. He hit the floor hard, already reaching for Izzy when the second shot punched through the wall.
Reed froze for one terrible second—the classic civilian response that got people killed—then dove sideways off his chair just as Cory barked, "Down. Stay down."
The third shot turned the file cabinet into shrapnel, metal and paper erupting across the small office. Reed scrambled on hands and knees toward the desk, scattering papers like snow. "What the—who's shooting at us?"
The fourth shot answered him, the computer monitor disintegrating in a spray of glass and plastic. They were all belly-crawling now, three bodies trying to become one with the floor as shots five and six punched more holes through the thin walls.
Through the chaos, Izzy's voice cut clear and calm as a mountain stream: "Northeast ridge, 450 yards, elevation advantage of maybe 30 degrees."
Even with death whistling overhead, Cory felt a flash of admiration. While he and Reed were just trying to survive, shewas already analyzing, calculating, turning chaos into data. This was the operator the military had trained, the one who'd survived missions he'd probably never have clearance to know about.
Shot seven cracked overhead, close enough that Cory felt the pressure wave.
"Why are they—" Reed's question died as shot eight slammed into the doorframe, showering them with splinters.
Cory saw Reed pressed against the wall now, clutching his left arm. Blood seeped between his fingers, dark and steady. "I'm hit. I'm hit."
"Stay down, Reed. Don't move." Izzy's tone held the same authority Cory used at crime scenes—the voice that made people obey without thinking.
Shot nine went wild, hitting the ceiling. Reed flinched hard, his whole body trying to disappear into the wall. "They're trying to kill us. This is about what I told you?—"
"Shut up and stay flat," Cory barked. Not the time for theories or confessions.
Shot ten, then sudden silence. The absence of gunfire felt almost as loud as the shots themselves.
Reed's breathing came harsh and ragged: "Are they reloading? Are they coming closer?"
"Bolt action, probably .308," Izzy murmured, and Cory marveled at her ability to identify the weapon from sound alone. "They're walking shots left to right—amateur pattern."
A distant engine rumbled to life, diesel by the sound. Cory's chest loosened slightly.
