had.
The flash drive report came in on a rainy Tuesday.
Elise called me to her office instead of coming to mine.
That alone told me enough.
Her conference room had glass walls and a view of the river. The sky beyond was low and pewter-colored, and the water below moved in restless dark folds.
A forensic analyst sat beside her with a laptop closed in front of him.
Maya was present by video. So was a representative from the court-appointed team. Everything was formal, documented, careful.
I sat.
Elise began without preamble.
“The drive contains financial records, scanned documents, audio files, and a video message from Evan.”
My hands curled once against the armrests.
“A video?”
“Yes.”
“Have you watched it?”
“Only with the forensic team.”
“What’s on it?”
She exchanged a look with the analyst.
“Elise.”
“The financial records suggest Evan was investigating a trust created before the
