The old boat dock at the edge of the campus lake was deserted, the wooden planks creaking under the weight of my boots.
Officer Gregory Vance stood near the rusted winch at the end of the pier, his collar turned up against the wind as he stared at the gray water. He did not look at me when I stopped two feet behind him, his hands stuffed deep into his uniform pockets.
“You should not have come here, Walker,” Vance said, his voice carrying a tired, defeatist sigh.
“Marcus Miller is your nephew,” I said.
Vance stiffened, his shoulders rising as he looked down at the dark water lapping against the green pilings.
“He is twenty-two,” Vance said. “He had some trouble in Columbus. I was just trying to get him a clean start.”
“He did not start clean,” I said. “He disabled the campus security lights on the night of the attack, and he was the one who used the flashlight in the plaza.”
Vance closed his eyes, his breath coming in a ragged fog.
“I had no choice,” Vance said. “The Senator called me herself. She said your girl had found the audit logs for the structural steel on the new science building.”
“The safety fraud reports,” I said, the words cold in my throat.
“They told me she was going to destroy our lives, Walker,” Vance sobbed, his head dropping as his hand went to his notebook. “The Senator said if the audit got out, the funding would be canceled, the school would go under, and my nephew would go to state prison for his old warrants.”
“Who gave the order to turn off the lights?” I asked.
“I did,” Vance whispered, his hand shaking as he wiped his nose. “Under direct orders from Senator Hale. She told me to make sure the plaza went dark at eleven fifty.”
“Where is the file Lily took?” I asked.
“I do not have it,” Vance said. “Hale’s people took everything from her backpack before they brought her to the hospital.”
I turned away from him without another word, my boots echoing on the damp wood of the dock as I walked back to my car.
I sat in the driver’s seat of my sedan, the heater blowing warm air against my cold face.
Through the windshield, the gray water of the lake rippled under the autumn wind, the empty dock looking small against the tree line.
The attack on Lily had nothing to do with a college rivalry or three wealthy boys acting out.
She had found the financial records proving Thomas Cole’s firm was overcharging the university for substandard steel, and Senator Hale had signed the approval forms.
Lily had been targeted because she was brave enough to write down the truth, and I had spent nineteen years believing my silence would keep her safe.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white against the worn leather.
The blue light from the county cruiser reflected off my living room wall at exactly three in the afternoon.
I did not move from my wooden kitchen stool. Through the screen door, the autumn air carried the smell of wet soil and rotting oak leaves.
Two deputies walked up my front path, their heavy duty belts clinking with every step. The older one, Deputy Collins, had a blue paper folder tucked under his arm.
“Daniel Walker,” Collins said through the screen door.
“I am here,” I said.
I unlatched the door and let it swing open. Collins did not look me in the eye. He looked at the floorboards, his hand resting near his belt.
“I have a temporary restraining order here, along with a search warrant for your residence,” Collins said.
The second deputy, a younger man named Miller, was already looking past my shoulder into the hallway.
“The warrant specifies all computers, storage devices, and digital files,” Miller said.
“Under whose authority,” I asked.
Collins handed me the papers, his thumb marking the bottom of the second page.
“Judge Arnett signed it at noon,” Collins said. “A complaint of corporate espionage was filed by the university board’s legal counsel this morning.”
I looked at the signature on the blue paper. The ink was still fresh enough to smear under my thumb.
“I need to call my daughter’s room,” I said.
“No phone calls until we secure the hardware, Mr. Walker,” Collins said.
He stepped past me into the hall, his boots heavy on the pine floorboards. Miller went straight for the small desk in the corner where I kept my old desktop tower.
I stood by the coat rack and watched him pull the blue internet cable from the wall. He did not ask for the password. He simply lifted the gray metal box and set it on the dining table.
“Where is the laptop,” Miller asked.
