a drawer in Ryan’s parents’ hallway.
Her stomach turned. Her hands stayed steady.
Ryan had not simply delivered a word at 4:30 in the morning and expected her to disappear quietly. He had done it while standing on a floor that may have been funded by money routed through approvals bearing his signature.
Mrs. Parker’s expression had gone very still. “Print to PDF,” she said. “Save nothing locally. We document the file path, the timestamp, and the access trail. Everything stays traceable.”
Claire worked methodically, opening files, logging paths, screenshotting metadata. At 6:29, her phone lit up with Ryan’s name. She watched it pulse until it stopped. At 6:31, his mother called. She let that one go too. At 6:34, the texts began.
Where are you?
Then: Do not make this ugly.
Mrs. Parker glanced at the screen and looked back at the transfer ledger without
