He continues. “Once you chose not to close this, Zoe’s death stopped being just another accident. And it made me think twice about the one before it.”
That lands heavier than anything else he’s said.
“So you think I should reopen it?”
His tone is respectful. “I thinkyoushould decide whether it belongs anywhere near your investigation.”
“Thank you, Rio,” I say finally. “Send it over.”
“I will.”
“Bye…”
He stops me short. “One more thing…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to get the bodycam information from Enzo and send that in the same email? He’s still working onputting together the dossier on your Red Truck Guy, but I can send some prelim information so you can get started?”
“Sorry, what?” My voice comes out too sharp, so I cover it with a bright laugh that sounds fake to my own ears.
“Your Red Truck Guy. I’ve been sitting next to Enzo who’s been working on it for you. He told me he has a name and address for you now.”
How did Enzo get the bodycam image? And why does he have it?
Someone sent it over.
Someone Rio would assume had already told me. Someone close enough to what goes on at the Echo Valley PD, at GhostEye…
And there’s only one person who fits that bill.
Anton.
The floor gives out beneath me, and my ribs cave in on my chest. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.
Anton went over my head? Without even so much as suggesting that using GhostEye was a good idea?
A sick feeling coats my stomach. If he sent this without telling me…what else did he decide I didn’t need to know? And what else has he talked to the boys about without consulting me? Did he tell them he backed me up because I got spooked at the junkyard like some rookie with training wheels? That he gives me some of my best ideas at night at home because he’s so much better at this than I am?
My face burns, humiliation crawling up my throat so fast, I almost choke on it. But I refuse to let Rio hear even a flicker of that.
“Oh, right.”Lie.“Thanks. For sure, send what you have. I can get the rest later.”
“Alright. You’ll have everything in the next ten.”
“Thanks, bye.”
I press end on the call and stare at my phone.
Anton didn’t think I could handle it on my own? There’s no doubt it occurred to me to ask GhostEye for help when all our own tools failed me. But I need clearance first. And that was my call to make.
I asked Anton to let me lead an…
I head back to my desk, grab my jacket, shove my notebook into my bag, and force myself not to storm out as anger bubbles inside me.
Walking out of the station feels like trying to move underwater—thick, dragging, suffocating. My heart is pounding so hard, I feel it in my wrists, my throat, the back of my eyes. The cold air outside hits my face but does nothing to cool the burn rising under my skin.
He went around me. He handled my lead. Why did he step in like this? Because he thought I wasn’t doing things right?
