Chương 5
Leo found the restroom at the back of the store.
Inside, he locked himself in a stall and placed the tool bag on the floor.
His breath came unevenly.
He turned on Thomas’s phone and resumed the video.
Thomas looked older each time Leo saw him.
“The robbery was arranged to remove the original audit records and discredit me,” Thomas said. “Darren Pike was working as an informant for Detective Ross Vey. I believe Vey told Pike where the records were and promised protection. I believe Pike recruited you because your connection to me would make the burglary look personal if anyone asked why that warehouse was targeted.”
Thomas stopped and rubbed both hands over his face.
“I do not believe they intended for the guard to be shot. That does not make them less responsible. It does not make you less responsible for driving. You and I are going to have to live in the space between those truths, assuming we are both still alive when this is done.”
Leo closed his eyes.
Outside the stall, the restroom door opened. Someone whistled while washing his hands. Water ran. Paper towels tore from a dispenser.
Thomas continued through the phone’s small speaker.
“The case taken from the warehouse contained invoices proving Hale Development billed the county for demolition and cleanup work that was never performed. Some properties were sold to Hale-linked companies after the county paid to clear them. Others were burned before inspections. The money moved through subcontractors controlled by Grant Hale, County Controller Marcus Vale, and members of the sheriff’s department.”
The restroom door opened and shut again.
“I copied portions of the audit, but the originals disappeared. After your arrest, Vale ordered me to revise my findings. When I refused, I began receiving threats. I believed I could protect you by cooperating long enough to collect proof. I was wrong. My cooperation protected no one. It only made me useful to them.”
Thomas looked away from the camera.
“When Creel was killed, I understood what they were willing to do.”
Leo paused the video.
Shawn Creel’s death had been ruled a suicide. He had been found hanging from a bedsheet in a county jail unit where cameras had malfunctioned. Leo had known Shawn since middle school. He had not liked him, but dislike had not prevented Shawn from visiting Leo’s mind at night.
Leo played the recording again.
“A year ago, Adrian Cole came to me. He said he had worked internal security for Grant Hale and had proof of payments to Vey. He offered to help me disappear in exchange for immunity and money. I did not trust him. I still don’t. But part of what he gave me was real.”
Thomas leaned closer to the camera.
“Cole is dangerous, but he may not be the danger you think. Evelyn Rusk has the rest of this story. Show her the blue notebook. Do not give Cole the binders. Do not confront Grant Hale. And Leo—”
Thomas stopped.
His lips moved once before sound came.
“I should have come to you in prison and told you the truth. I should have stood beside you even if it killed me. I chose evidence over you because evidence was easier than hearing what you would call me.”
The video ended.
Leo sat in the locked stall until the screen went dark.
Someone knocked on the restroom door.
“Maintenance.”
Leo shoved the phone into his jacket.
The employee entered with a mop bucket. “Sir, we’re closing this restroom for cleaning.”
“What time is it?”
She looked at him strangely. “Four forty.”
He had been free less than seven hours.
It felt like several lives.
Leo left the store through the loading entrance after telling the employee he had lost his way. She did not believe him, but she was seventeen and tired and unwilling to make his confusion her problem.
He walked north.
Bellwether had changed while he was gone, but not enough to become unfamiliar. The pawnshop had become a vape store. The old bakery was now a payday lender. A mural covered the side of the library, painted with bright faces belonging to people who did not resemble anyone Leo knew.
He found a bus shelter and studied the route map.
Evelyn Rusk’s office was downtown near the county courthouse. Walking would take twenty minutes. The public bus arrived in thirty-five.
Leo walked.
His prison boots were worn at the heels and too stiff across the toes. At release, an officer had asked whether they still fit. Leo had said yes because the alternative was leaving in state-issued shower sandals.
Halfway downtown, he stopped at a convenience store and bought a prepaid phone, a bottle of water, and a packet of beef jerky. The clerk asked for identification to activate the phone. Leo handed over his prison release card by mistake.
The clerk glanced at it and then at him.
“You got a driver’s license?”
“Expired.”
“Passport?”
“I just came from prison.”
The clerk pushed the phone back across the counter. “Then I can’t activate it.”
Leo felt anger rise with humiliating speed.
“I have money.”
“It’s not about money.”
“I have a state identification number.”
“I need a valid photo ID.”
A man waiting behind Leo sighed.
The sound was small, but Leo turned.
The man raised both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You sighed.”
“I’ve got frozen food in the car.”
Leo looked at the clerk again.
She was perhaps sixty, with silver bracelets stacked on one wrist. She did not appear afraid of him. That helped.
“Can I use your phone?”
“No.”
“One local call.”
“No.”
May you like
He put the jerky and water on the counter and paid for them. Outside, he sat on the curb beside a newspaper box and drank half the bottle at once.
His first hours of freedom had included an empty grave, a false death, a chase through a bus station, and a failed attempt to purchase a phone. The last failure hurt in a way the others did not. It was ordinary. There would be hundreds like it.
