He gave her a long look. Audrey thought he’d deny her, but finally, he took the file, flipped to the middle, and drew out three photographs.
The first was a long-lens shot from across the street: Sophia was exiting a black SUV outside a warehouse with no visiblesignage. She wore gloves, and even at a distance, her face was hers. Older, yes, and harder, but hers.
The second was even more disconcerting.
It was a still frame from CCTV footage with a time stamp in military format. Her mother was standing in front of a freight elevator, head turned just enough for the camera to catch her mouth, one hand lifted as if she were speaking to someone out of frame.
The third looked meaningless—just a cropped image of a clipboard. But Audrey saw the destination code in the lower-right corner.
Tolusa.
She looked up so fast her eyes swam. “This city?”
Alex nodded.
“She’s been here.”
“Yes.”
“How recently?”
“Within the last ten days.”
The file shook in her hands. “Then why the hell did you allow me to keep walking out here?”
His back stiffened. “Because I needed to know whether she was hunting you, watching you, or waiting for someone else to flush you into the open. Tonight answered that.”
His response made her stare; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You allowed me to be bait.”
His mask returned, hiding everything. The blankness was worse than denial or anger. Betrayal twisted inside Audrey, mingling shock and rage in her belly.
“I kept eyes on you.”
Her cold, furious glare followed him into the hallway.
Alex’s condoreminded her of sandalwood and expensive soap. She dropped into one of the sleek chairs at the glass table. She searched for a cigarette. In her unsteady hands, the lighter sparked twice before catching. Finally, smoke wafted toward the ceiling.
“So she’s alive,” Audrey said, blowing smoke in his face.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve known this.”
Alex loosened his tie, a habit when he was unsure. “I knew pieces of it.”
“Don’t do that.” Her voice was quiet, yet deadlier. “Don’t start carving this into sanitized words so you can live with yourself.”
She flipped to another page: a customs declaration and a memo on a cargo route. One name was crossed out, replaced in black ink.
“How long?” she asked.
“Audrey—”
“You were building this while I was still inside, weren’t you?” she said. “You were asking me questions about the fire, about my mother, about what I remembered. And all that time you already suspected she wasn’t dead.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“But you thought it.” Her eyes burned. “You thought it and said nothing.”
