Page 34 of Broken Trust
Silverton’s eyes flew wider “Max. Did…did someone hurt him?”
Mason shook his head once. “He’s fine.”
“My wife? My sons?” His voice notched higher with hysteria.
“They’re safe too.”
He sagged forward, a breath shaking out of him. “Please.They don’t know where I am. Can I call them?”
Con spoke in a hard tone. “You’ll get that chance once we know what you are. Right now, you’re a question mark in the middle of an active op.”
His hands clenched tighter, knuckles bone white. “I swear, I’m not part of anything.”
“Charles,” Mason said slowly, “if you’re telling the truth, we’ll prove it. But if there’s anything you’re holding back, now’s your chance to come clean.”
Silverton’s voice was barely more than a breath. “I don’t even know what to confess to.”
Mason believed him.
And that concerned him more than if the guy had cracked.
* * * * *
Elin’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the rhythmic clicking a counterpoint to the interrogation live streaming through Dante’s computer. Each answer Charles Silverton gave became another thread she pulled, unraveling his digital life layer by layer.
So far, his answers checked out.
There were no suspicious transactions. No unexplained deposits or withdrawals that would indicate bribes or payoffs. His bank records read like a suburban dad’s monthly budget—mortgage payments, grocery stores, soccer league fees for his kids.
She switched to his encrypted messaging apps, diving past the surface-level security most people thought protected them. Nothing. No coded messages, no hidden conversations, no breadcrumbs leading to Cipher, just the daily communication with EchoZero.
“He’s clean so far,” she murmured to Sophie, who leaned over her shoulder, watching the cascade of data flowing across multiple monitors.
“Could be using burner phones,” Sophie suggested.
“Already checked the cell tower pings near his home and office. His phone patterns are predictable as clockwork. Home, work, kids’ school, grocery store.” Elin pulled up a heat mapof Silverton’s movements over the past six months. “The most exciting place he’s been is a hardware store forty minutes away.”
The feed continued with the live interrogation, and Elin listened to every single word so she didn’t miss anything between the lines.
The door opened behind them, and Dante’s presence filled the space. “Getting anything?”
Elin paused, her attention drawn to the video feed from the interrogation room. Her breath caught.
Liam.
Even with the mask covering the lower half of his face and dark glasses hiding his eyes, he was glorious. Every move he made—controlled, deliberate—was dangerous to her peace of mind. The black clothing he wore emphasized every line of the muscle she’d traced with her hands just hours ago.
Her own body responded instantly, heat gathering low in her belly, nerve endings sparking to life.
He turned, facing the camera head on. God, she wanted to climb him like a tree.
The thought hit her with an intensity that made her grip the edge of the desk. After everything—after he’d left her, after two years of believing he was dead, after one night that solvednothing—she still wanted him with a desperation that bordered on pathetic.
But wanting and trusting were different beasts entirely. How could she ever trust him not to disappear again? To wake up one morning and find another note, another goodbye, another gaping wound where he used to be?
“Your wife’s favorite restaurant?”
“Uh...Giuseppe’s. The Italian place downtown.”
