"You're early."
"You're ready."
"I got the warrant this morning." She handed him the folder. "Costa's office. We have until five, then I have to file a report on what we found."
Jake flipped through the paperwork. Signed and dated, everything proper. "You work fast."
"You said time mattered."
He closed the folder, met her eyes. "It does. More than I thought." He pulled out Gator's intel, handed it to her. "Vanceis putting pressure on Costa's known associates. Friendly visits. The kind where someone mentions your kid's school."
Emily scanned the list, her expression hardening. "He's hunting."
"And we need to find Costa first."
She handed the paper back, nodded once. "Then let's stop standing around."
They walked toward the garage entrance, falling into step without discussion. Emily glanced sideways at him.
"Range Rover's here?"
"Where else would it be?"
"Just checking. Last time you had to tell me the entire Syria extraction story before we got out of the parking garage."
"That was context. Important context. This is just parking."
She smiled. Actually smiled, not the almost-smile he'd gotten used to. It changed her whole face.
"What?" she asked, catching him looking.
"Nothing. Nice to see you've got teeth."
"I have excellent teeth. I just don't show them to everyone."
"Should I feel special?"
"Don't push your luck, Walsh."
But she was still smiling when they reached the Range Rover.
Costa's office occupied a nondescript suite in a Westshore office park. Insurance agencies on either side, a personal injury lawyer two doors down. The kind of place designed to be forgettable.
Emily handled the building's receptionist with her badge and the authority of a woman who executed federal warrants the way most people ordered coffee. Jake watched her work, efficient and clean, and then they were upstairs.
The office was exactly what Jake expected. Cramped, functional, dominated by filing cabinets. A desk, a computer,two chairs for clients. Nothing on the walls except a real estate calendar from three years ago.
He stopped in the doorway. Took it in. Desk drawer sitting crooked, pulled out fast and shoved back without looking. Coat hook on the door, a sports coat hanging there, slightly rumpled.
"He was wearing that when he left," Emily said. "In July."
"He wasn't planning to leave at all. He was spooked. He got a call or a message and he ran."
They worked the office in parallel. Emily took the filing cabinets, pulling drawers with methodical precision. Jake took the desk and break area, reading the space how he read every space, tracking what was there and what should have been. No photos on the desk. No diplomas on the wall. Nothing personal in a place where a man had worked for years. An office that had never been intended as permanent.
Emily saw it too. He watched the realization cross her face as she straightened from a file drawer and looked at the room with fresh eyes. "He was always planning to run."
"He didn't plan to run this soon."
