Titan keeps his eyes on the road. “He gave us a story that was designed to make him look like a father trying to protect his kid from consequences. A mistake, a bad crowd.” He glances at me again. “But he didn’t talk like a man who was saving his son. He talked like a man who was protecting himself.”
Protecting himself.
I think about the way he said his son had been “involved.” The way he avoided specifics. The way he tried to guide the conversation toward “tragic accident” instead of “deliberate harm.”
“Thomas Harding,” I say out loud, testing the name in my mouth.
Titan nods once. “It’s a real name now. It’s attached to a flight manifest somewhere. It’s attached to passport control, baggage tags, hotel check-ins. Or it should be. If it isn’t, that tells us something too.”
My phone buzzes with a notification. I ignore it. My focus stays on Titan, on the logic he’s laying down piece by piece.
“You want to verify the travel,” I say.
“I want to verify everything,” Titan replies. “Because if the dean lied about one part, we have to assume he lied about the rest.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose and look out the window. Students move along the footpaths in groups. Laughing. Talking. Headphones in. Not watching the cars. Reckless.
“To what end?” I ask him.
“Only the dean can answer that. The dean, or or Daniel Stockton himself.”
I think of Rowan and Missy. I think of what it does to someone to have their body and mind forced into survival mode for too long. The dean didn’t have the right to decide what truth gets told and what truth gets buried.
Titan’s voice cuts in again. “Call Silas.”
I blink once. “Now?”
“Yes. Before we get distracted.”
I pull my phone out and hit Silas’s contact. It rings twice.
Silas answers with no greeting. “Talk.”
Titan speaks first, voice calm. “We need two things.”
Silas doesn’t ask why. Nor does he ask for context. “Go.”
Titan checks the road ahead, then continues. “All outbound flights to Australia in 2016 and 2017 with a Thomas Harding on board. Every airline, every route. If there’s a connecting flight through Asia, Europe, anywhere—track it.”
Silas’s breathing is quiet on the line. I can hear typing in the background.
Titan adds, “And hospital records for Daniel Stockton, second half of 2016. Admissions. Emergency visits. Ambulance call-outs. Anything that puts him in a bed.”
Silas pauses. “Hospital records aren’t public.”
“I know.”
Another pause. Then Silas gives a flat, practical answer. “I can find billing trails, insurance activity, and certain admin logs. Might take time.”
“You have it,” Titan tells him. “But we need to know as soon as you have something.”
Silas makes a sound that could be agreement. “Anything else?”
Titan’s eyes flick in the mirror. “Yes. Get me Dean Stockton’s financials. If he’s moving money offshore, I want to know about it.”
Silas doesn’t hesitate. “Done.”
The call ends.
