Chương 4
"Because there is something else."
He waited.
She turned the laptop toward him.
On the screen was a system log.
A record of access.
A timestamp.
A username.
Daniel stared at it.
The account was his.
The login was his.
But underneath the entry was a detail that made his chest tighten.
The access came from inside the firm's building.
The night he reported the laptop stolen.
The night he thought someone had broken into his office.
The night he had told police he was the victim.
Evelyn closed the laptop.
"Daniel, there is a possibility someone did not steal your computer to use it later."
He looked at her.
"Then why?"
She hesitated.
"Maybe they wanted you to think it was stolen."
Daniel looked at Evelyn for several seconds without speaking.
The hallway outside the courtroom filled and emptied around them, lawyers moving in groups, security officers checking their phones, a clerk carrying a stack of folders that nearly blocked her view.
Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go.
Daniel felt trapped in a moment that refused to move.
"You're saying someone wanted me to report it stolen?" he asked.
Evelyn closed the laptop.
"I'm saying we need to stop assuming the theft was the beginning of this."
He rubbed his forehead.
The headache had been building since morning, but he had ignored it because there were always more important things.
Court.
Evidence.
Questions.
Survival.
Now his body was reminding him that it had limits.
"Who would do that?"
Evelyn looked toward the courtroom doors.
"I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it's the only honest one."
Daniel hated that she was right.
He had built his career on forcing people to separate facts from theories.
Now he wanted a theory.
He wanted a person.
Someone to blame.
Someone whose name he could say out loud.
Instead, there was only a blank space where an explanation should have been.
Evelyn stood and gathered her papers.
"We need everything from the night your laptop disappeared."
"I gave the police everything."
"You gave them what you thought mattered."
Daniel looked at her.
"And now you think something else matters."
"I think people usually remember the details they understand."
She paused.
"They miss the details they don't know are important."
The courthouse doors opened, and Mark Ellison walked out with two other attorneys.
He stopped when he saw Daniel and Evelyn.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Mark's expression was professional, but Daniel noticed something he had not noticed before.
Not confidence.
Concern.
It disappeared quickly.
"Mr. Mercer," Mark said.
Daniel forced himself to stand.
"Mr. Ellison."
The two men looked at each other with the uncomfortable familiarity of people who had spent years in the same professional circles.
They were not friends.
But they had shared conference rooms, charity dinners, and conversations about cases that had nothing to do with either of them.
That history made the accusation feel more personal.
"Your attorney seems interested in the electronic records," Mark said.
Daniel said nothing.
Mark continued.
"That's reasonable."
Evelyn watched him carefully.
"Are you offering cooperation?"
"No."
Mark adjusted his tie.
"I'm acknowledging that everyone deserves a fair process."
Daniel almost smiled.
"That sounds different from the man who brought surprise evidence into court."
Mark's face tightened slightly.
"The evidence was not a surprise to the court."
"It was to me."
"Sometimes the person closest to the facts is the last person willing to accept them."
The sentence bothered Daniel because it sounded less like an argument and more like something Mark had practiced saying.
Before Daniel could answer, Mark walked away.
Evelyn waited until he was gone.
"Do not underestimate him."
"I don't."
"You do."
Daniel looked at her.
"You think he's right."
"I think he's dangerous because he might believe he's right."
The words followed him all the way home.
Claire drove because Daniel had not slept enough to trust himself behind the wheel.
Rain tapped against the windshield.
Neither of them turned on the radio.
The silence between them was not peaceful.
It was crowded.
Their house looked exactly the same when they arrived.
That was somehow worse.
The same porch light.
The same flowerpot Claire kept forgetting to replace.
The same stack of unopened mail beside the door.
Daniel stood in the entryway while Claire removed her coat.
For years, this house had been the one place where he did not need to perform.
No courtroom voice.
No partner voice.
No careful explanation.
Just Daniel.
Now he felt like a guest waiting to be told whether he could stay.
"I need to check something," he said.
Claire looked over.
"What?"
"My office files."
"It's almost midnight."
"I know."
"Daniel."
The way she said his name stopped him.
Not because she was angry.
Because she sounded tired.
"I can't sit here and wait."
"I know."
"Then why does it sound like you want me to?"
Claire looked down at the floor.
"Because every time you chase something, you disappear into it."
He frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means when work gets difficult, you become someone who only knows how to solve the problem."
Daniel opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the unfair part was that she was right.
He had spent years believing dedication was the same thing as being present.
He had missed dinners.
Forgotten conversations.
Answered emails during vacations.
He always promised there would be more time later.
Later had become a place they kept expecting to reach.
"I need to know who did this," he said.
Claire looked at him.
"And I need to know if you understand why I am scared."
The question was simple.
The answer was not.
He looked away.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"I want you to stop acting like this is only about proving something."
Daniel felt irritation rise.
"What else would it be about?"
Claire's expression changed.
There it was.
May you like
The thing neither of them wanted to say.
"About what happens if you don't."
