“He knew what Flynn was planning.”
“He suspected.
He didn’t act on it.” Renata paused.
“He’s acting on it now.
This screenshot, along with seventeen other documents, has been provided to the state attorney’s office as part of his voluntary cooperation.”
Diane looked at the photograph for a long moment.
“Flynn’s going to know it was Gerald,” she said.
“Yes,” Renata said.
“He already does.”
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number — the same one as before.
*Flynn just fired Gerald.
Gerald expected it.
He said to tell you: the rest of the documents are already with Renata.
He kept copies of everything.*
I read it twice.
Then I looked up at Renata.
She was already nodding.
“He gave me everything this morning,” she said.
“Before Flynn could reach him.”
I set the phone down.
Outside the window, the city moved in its ordinary way — traffic, pedestrians, the flat gray sky of a Tuesday in November.
Nothing looked different.
Nothing announced itself.
But somewhere across that city, Flynn Vance was sitting in a room, realizing that the man who had helped him build every careful wall for twenty-two years had just handed the keys to his wife.
His former wife.
The one he had left for d*ad.