Page 90 of Code Name: Atticus
“Copy that. Tank and I are en route to SFO now.”
After I hung up, Alice was already pulling up remote access protocols. “If Trevor powers that laptop on, I own it.”
“Legally?” Admiral asked.
“Warrants are already in place for electronic surveillance of Trevor Collins, based on the financial evidence. Completely legal.”
By zero five thirty,Trevor cracked. Not because of interrogation, but because the FBI showed him the evidence we’d compiled. Through his lawyer, he provided a statement admitting to selling insider information to Morrison for six months, claiming he’d threatened to expose him to both the federal authorities and his wife if he didn’t cooperate with framing Luke.
“Why would his wife matter more than federal prison?” Dragon asked.
Alice pulled up more financial records. “Trevor’s been hiding massive debt from her. Not just gambling—he made catastrophic trades trying to keep up with her spending.”
My eyes scrunched. “Bad investments?”
“Trevor owes three hundred grand to various creditors. Some legitimate, some not. He’s been juggling disaster for months, and Morrison knew it.”
“That’s why Morrison could control him,” I said. “Pay his debts or let his creditors know where to find him.”
Trevor’s laptop contained encrypted files he’d kept as insurance—documented instructions from Morrison, financial transfers, even metadata proving the evidence against Luke was created after Friday night. Smart enough to keep records, not smart enough to avoid getting caught.
“The encryption certificate timestamps are unimpeachable,” Alice said, compiling everything into a package that would stand up in court.
“What about Luke?”
“I’ve documented forty-three instances where the real Luke used the two-seven-one pattern, versus zero instances in the fabricated accesses. Plus, hardware signatures proving Luke’s laptop was in Virginia while ‘his’ credentials accessed systems from California.”
Admiral studied the compiled evidence. “This proves Luke is innocent.”
“I need to get to DC. Now.”
“The Gulfstream is on standby in Albany,” Admiral said. “You can be there by zero eight hundred.”
I hadn’t slept since Sunday night, but adrenaline and purpose kept me sharp. I tried calling Brenna three times during the flight to DC, but all my calls went straight to voicemail.
The ride to Foggy Bottom took forty minutes through Tuesday morning rush hour. Government workers heading to their offices, tourists starting their day—normal life continuing while I carried evidence that would exonerate Luke and get Brenna to forgive me. At least I prayed it would.
I stoodoutside her building in the morning heat, evidence compiled on the encrypted drive in my hand. Everything needed to free Luke occupied a piece of hardware smaller than a deck of cards. The doorman recognized me from previous visits but said nothing about the tension that must have been radiating off me like heat waves.
I pressed her apartment number on the intercom, my finger steadier than my racing heart.
“Yes?” Her voice through the speaker sounded hollow, exhausted. Like she’d been crying. Of course she had—her brother was in federal custody, and the man she’d trusted had let her down.
“Brenna, it’s me. I have proof Luke’s innocent. Trevor framed him on Morrison’s orders. I have everything—the real timeline, the encryption certificates, Morrison’s communications. Luke never did anything wrong.”
Silence stretched between us, interrupted only by the soft hiss of the intercom’s static. I could hear her breathing, uneven and sharp. Was she processing what I’d said or deciding whether to hang up?
“I know I should have fought harder for him from the start,” I added, my voice cracking slightly. “I know I failed you both. But please, let me fix this. Let me make it right.”
The buzzer sounded, the lock releasing with a click that might have been the best sound I’d ever heard. Or the worst, depending on what waited for me upstairs.
Emma opened the apartment door just as I reached it.
“Where’s Brenna?”
She motioned to where she stood at her living room window, arms wrapped around herself, looking out at the city. When she turned to face me, her eyes were red-rimmed but dry.
“Show me what you found,” she said simply.
