Chương 12
Thomas searched Vincent and found a slim phone in an interior pocket, different from the one he had surrendered outside. The screen displayed an active call.
No name.
Only a number.
Thomas ended it and sealed the phone in a plastic bag.
Vincent stopped struggling.
“Who was listening?” Julian asked.
Vincent said nothing.
The answer came from outside.
Three sharp cracks broke the morning.
A window near the stairs shattered inward. The guard in front of Sophia drove her to the floor as another shot struck the fireplace mantel. Elena screamed upstairs.
Julian was already moving.
He pulled Sophia behind the sofa, then crossed the room low and fast, all the restraint in his body converted into precision. Thomas dragged Vincent away from the windows. The second guard returned fire through a narrow opening beside the front door.
“North tree line,” someone shouted over the radio. “Two shooters.”
More gunfire answered from outside.
Sophia curled around her ribs. The movement protected nothing and made breathing impossible. She heard Elena above them, Naomi shouting for her to stay down.
Julian reached the foot of the stairs.
“Thomas.”
“Go,” Thomas said.
Julian took the steps three at a time.
Vincent lay facedown near the wall, wrists secured behind him with a plastic restraint. He turned his head toward Sophia.
“This is what your choice looks like,” he said.
Another window broke.
Sophia pressed her palm to the floor and forced herself upright enough to see him.
“No,” she said. “This is yours.”
The attack lasted less than two minutes.
It felt long enough for the house to age.
One shooter fled through the trees and reached a vehicle waiting on the service road. The second was wounded in the leg and captured by the exterior team. A guard suffered a graze along his forearm. No one inside was hit.
Julian brought Elena downstairs after the all-clear. She clung to Sophia without caring about the ribs this time, and Sophia did not stop her.
Thomas questioned the captured shooter in the garage while another team moved Vincent to a locked room. Nora Bell’s office received a call from Sophia at seven twelve in the morning.
By eight, two investigators and an evidence technician arrived at a supermarket parking lot five miles away.
Julian refused to let them approach the safe house. Nora refused to accept the drive through one of his men. Sophia solved the argument by going herself.
She rode in the rear of an armored SUV with Elena on one side and Naomi on the other. Julian sat across from them. The metal box rested on the floor between his shoes.
“You should not be leaving the house,” Naomi said for the third time.
“The house has bullet holes,” Elena replied.
“That does not improve your sister’s ribs.”
“Nothing improves her ribs.”
“Time does.”
Elena looked out the window. “Time is slow.”
Sophia watched Julian. “Who were they?”
“The wounded man has not spoken,” he said.
“Were they Marcus’s?”
“One carried a phone containing messages from a number connected to Marcus.”
“That sounds like yes.”
“It sounds like someone wanted us to believe yes.”
Elena turned from the window. “Vincent called somebody before the shooting.”
Julian nodded.
“So it was Vincent.”
“Possibly.”
“You say possibly a lot.”
“It prevents mistakes.”
“It also prevents answers.”
Sophia touched Elena’s knee. “Let him work.”
Elena looked at her. “You trust him now?”
“No.”
Julian’s eyes moved to Sophia.
She continued, “But I trust that he wants the truth about the shooting.”
“That’s very specific,” Elena said.
“Trust should be.”
The supermarket had not opened yet. Rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt black and shining beneath a pale sky. A delivery truck idled behind the building. Gulls circled over the dumpsters.
Nora Bell arrived in an ordinary gray sedan.
She was forty-two, with dark blond hair pulled into a low knot and a tan coat worn over clothes that looked slept in. Two investigators came with her, a Black woman named Dana Brooks and a thin man named Colin Shea. Both showed identification to Sophia before approaching the SUV.
Nora stopped when Julian stepped out.
“This is not how protective surrender works,” she said.
“It is voluntary,” Julian replied.
“Nothing is voluntary when you bring four armed vehicles.”
“They remained on the road.”
“I counted six.”
“Two belong to the property owner.”
Nora looked at the closed supermarket. “The property owner is a grocery corporation.”
“Then their security is excellent.”
She did not smile.
Sophia opened the rear door before either of them could continue. Pain made the motion slow and clumsy.
Nora crossed to her. “You should be in a hospital.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Do you have the drive?”
Julian lifted the metal box.
Nora’s eyes stayed on Sophia. “Is he surrendering it, or are you?”
“I am.”
“Did he access it?”
“No.”
“You witnessed continuous custody?”
“Not from his office to the safe house.”
Julian said, “The retrieval team wore body cameras. The footage is available.”
Nora looked at him. “You recorded your own covert entry?”
“I recorded the evidence.”
“That may be the first civic-minded act of your career.”
“I would not use that phrase in writing.”
She ignored him and handed Sophia a form.
“This states that you are voluntarily providing the device and that you understand it may be used in a criminal investigation. It also documents the sealed condition.”
Sophia read every line.
Her vision blurred halfway through. Elena took the paper, held it steadier, and read aloud quietly. Nora waited. Julian did too.
When Sophia reached the signature line, she looked at him.
“If this ruins you,” she said, “don’t blame me later.”
Julian glanced at the metal box. “It may ruin things that should have ended years ago.”
“That’s not the same as saying you won’t blame me.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
Sophia appreciated the lack of comfort.
May you like
She signed.
Nora opened an evidence container. Julian placed the metal box inside without touching anything else. Dana Brooks photographed the transfer. Colin Shea recorded the time.
