Page 85 of Code Name: Atticus
“The evidence is substantial,” Admiral said quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“He didn’t do it.” The words came from someplace deeper than logic, deeper than evidence, from the part of me that had known Luke my entire life.
I turned to Atticus. “You heard him. You know Luke. Did he sound like someone who’s guilty?”
“The evidence—” Atticus began.
My voice broke. “I let the evidence override my instincts. That’s my failure. But you? Luke saved your career. He was your brother in every way that mattered. I expected you to fight harder for him.”
“I am fighting. I’m following the evidence—” Atticus said.
“That’s not fighting. That’s processing. That’s doing your job. He swore on our parents’ lives, and you just stood there.” I kepttalking, even though he wasn’t responding. “The conversation we heard could have been innocent. We both know that.”
“Brenna, I don’t know what you want?—”
“Say he’s innocent. Say you believe him. Say you’ll help me prove it.”
“They’re transporting Luke to DC on a federal aircraft,” said Admiral, interrupting us. “Departure is in ninety minutes from SFO.”
“I’m going with him.” I turned to Emma. “I’m DOJ. I have authorization for federal prisoner transport.”
“I’ll come too,” Emma said immediately. “Treasury liaison for the financial crimes aspect.”
Admiral nodded. “Atticus and I will fly out on K19’s plane as soon as we can file the flight plan.”
“I need to be with my brother,” I said directly to Atticus. “You need to figure out what you believe.”
“Brenna—”
“I can’t look at you right now and not see someone who gave up on Luke.”
“That’s not fair?—”
“Maybe not. But it’s how I feel.” My shoulder brushed his as I passed, refusing to look at him.
“Brenna, wait?—”
I kept walking. Down the hallway where they’d taken Luke. Into the elevator, where Emma caught me again as my knees buckled. Out to the federal vehicles, where they were loading Luke into a van with reinforced windows and security barriers.
The ride to the airport was silent. I sat in a different vehicle from Luke—regulations required it—but knowing he was in the convoy, in shackles, believing his own sister had been behind his arrest, was agony. Every red light felt like an eternity. Every turn brought us closer to a reality I couldn’t accept.
The federal transport plane was utilitarian—no amenities, just functional seats and secured areas. I couldn’t see Luke once we boarded—he was in a separate section with the marshals.
Five hours. Five hours of flying across the country while my brother sat in chains and the man I’d loved was on a different plane. Doing what? Thinking what?
Me? I kept replaying the overheard conversation. “Access codes” and “system architecture” were both things that could be innocent business terms. The ten million could be a legitimate investment. We’d jumped to conclusions.
I looked at my phone as we lifted off. Atticus had sent three messages since I walked away. I deleted them all without reading. Whatever he had to say now, it was too late. When Luke had needed him most—when I had needed him most—he hadn’t fought hard enough.
Luke was innocent. I knew it the way I knew my own name. The way he’d sworn on our parents’ lives—that desperation, that certainty—that was truth. Raw, unfiltered truth.
The two of us had chosen evidence over faith initially, but I’d expected more from Atticus. He should have been Luke’s champion.
Emma droveus from Reagan National to my apartment in Foggy Bottom, navigating the familiar DC streets that now felt foreign after everything that had happened. The doorman greeted me with his usual smile, unaware that my world had ended hours ago in a hotel hallway. The elevator ride to the ninth floor felt endless, each floor counting up like years I’d lost.
My apartment was exactly as I’d left it a week ago—law books scattered on the coffee table from the case I’d been preparing, a dead ficus by the window I’d forgotten to have someone water. It felt like entering a museum of my former life, when my biggestconcerns had been trial prep and whether to request Atticus be assigned this investigation. The one that had ended with my brother’s arrest.
Emma made tea while I stood at my living room window, looking out at the city lights. Somewhere in federal custody, probably at the detention center in Alexandria, Luke was being processed. Fingerprinted. Photographed. Dressed in federal detention clothes.
