Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“I suspected. Then I checked the terminal logs,” Noah said. “Someone accessed the external line from Stokes’ system at 2:04 a.m. The same time the press got that tip about the sealed briefing. It’s buried, but it’s there.”
Ethan’s jaw flexed. “Stokes.”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “And he’s watching this circus right now thinking he’s off the hook.”
Ethan glanced through the glass, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Stokes, standing at his desk, arms crossed, watching everything too carefully.
Ethan nodded slowly. “Good. Let him think that.”
He turned back to Noah, voice calm and cold. “Let’s see how he behaves now that he thinks we’re idiots.”
Twenty-Eight
Alex slammedthe car door harder than he meant to. The sound cracked through the quiet like a gunshot. He dropped into the passenger seat, jaw locked, throat tight, the heat of it burning up behind his eyes.
“Why the hell didn’t she tell me?” he snapped, staring straight out the windshield like it owed him an explanation. Like the truth might somehow be waiting out there in the fogged glass and tree-lined lot.
Brad didn’t answer right away. He shifted into gear, pulled them out of the parking space like nothing had changed, like everything hadn’t just snapped wide open. “I don’t know.”
Alex’s fists clenched on his thighs. Nails digging in. He wasn’t even sure who the anger was for—Charlotte, Gideon, or himself. Maybe all of them.
“She went to see him,” he said, voice rough. “Gideon. After everything. After what he did. And she never told me.”
Brad nodded, eyes on the road. “Yeah. She did.”
Alex shook his head, swallowing back the sting that crept up anyway. “Why?” he whispered. “Why go to him? Why hide it from me? I wonder if Graham knew. Hell, maybe everyone knew but me.” He turned to Brad, eyes sharp with hurt. “And whykeep hiding it all these years later? After everything we’ve been through?”
Brad finally looked over. “You have to talk to her, man.”
“I have talked to her.”
“Not like this.”
No. Not like this. Not with the truth sitting between them like a lit fuse. Alex looked out the window, the world rushing by in a blur he barely registered. “She trusted him with something,” he muttered. “Something deep. Something real. And not me.” He shook his head. “That’s not just a crack, Brad. That’s a fault line.”
Brad’s voice dropped to something low and steady. “Then you’d better find out what’s buried under it before it breaks everything.”
Alex pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over Charlotte’s name. Just for a second.
Then he tapped.
The line rang once. Twice.
She picked up. “Alex?”
He closed his eyes briefly then spoke, calm but cold. “I need to talk to you.”
A pause. He knew she heard it in his voice. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he said. Not harsh. Just honest. “I’m not doing this over the phone. Wait for me at the college. Don’t go anywhere else.”
There was another pause. He caught the subtle hitch in her breath. “Okay.”
“I mean it, Charlotte.”
“I said okay,” she replied, quieter now. “I’ll be there.”
