She understood that more than she wanted to.
Three minutes felt like thirty.
Finally, the secretary made a satisfied sound. "There you are."
The door closed. Footsteps faded into silence.
Gabe shifted slightly, putting space between them. The loss of warmth felt more significant than it should.
"We need to hurry." His voice was rough. "Before someone else comes."
They resumed searching with greater urgency now. Cara worked her way through the youth musical props—paint-stained fabric, foam swords, a plywood manger that had seen better days.
Behind the manger, wedged into the gap between the shelf and the wall, something caught the light.
Her breath stopped.
A small fireproof metal box designed to protect important documents. Strange that it was so dust-free. She reached for it. The box felt light, as if it were almost empty.
She held it out. "Gabe."
He crossed to her in two strides, taking it gently, examining every inch before finally opening it.
Inside, nestled in foam padding, sat a bright blue flash drive barely bigger than her thumb. Taped to the inside of the lid was a note in cramped handwriting.
Gabe smoothed it out.
Gabe - if Ruiz didn't make it to you, something went wrong. This has everything. Recordings, photos, shipping manifests, names. Enough to prove what's happening here and who's involved.
Dad was onto something twenty years ago. And it looks like the outfit is still active. Same operation, same players or their successors. I can prove it now. Everything he tried to expose before they killed him is on this drive. I'm sure of it now.
Password is something only you would know. The thing I asked you when we were kids and you gave the worst answer possible. You'll remember.
Trust no one else with this. Not local cops. Not even the Coast Guard. Someone high up is involved.
I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more. But if you're reading this, I'm either dead or deep enough in hiding that I can't risk contact.
Find them, Gabe. Finish what Dad started.
- D
The note was dated three days before Gabe last heard from his brother.
Cara watched his face go through a dozen emotions in the space of seconds—relief shifting to shock, grief layering over determination, and beneath it all, something raw and broken.
His hand shook when he lifted the flash drive from the foam.
"What if David's right? What if my dad was innocent?" The words came out strangled. "All this time, I believed he was a crooked cop."
"Gabe—"
"I believed the lies." His jaw worked.
He stared at the drive like it contained ghosts. It probably did.
"We should go." Cara touched his arm lightly. "Get somewhere safe to access that."
He nodded and pocketed the drive, tucking the note into his jacket with hands that still trembled slightly. "Ruiz died because someone knew he was working David's investigation."
