chair.
Adrian sat.
Daniel quietly turned the laptop toward him.
He read.
His face hardened.
“Where did this come from?”
“Claire’s account.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You said she’s had access for seven years,” I said.
“Not to this.”
“What is it?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Private aviation records.”
“Your flights?”
“Mine. My family’s.”
“And Ethan’s?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
Daniel tapped a line on the screen.
“These entries weren’t created through the regular system. They were imported.”
“By Claire?” I asked.
“We don’t know.”
“Can you see when?”
“Yes.”
He pointed.
I leaned closer.
The first import date was nearly three years earlier.
Two days after the photograph had been taken.
Adrian pushed his coffee away.
“We need to go to the office.”
I immediately shook my head.
“You need to go to the office.”
His gaze lifted.
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“So am I,” I admitted.
“
