Chapter 19: The Flash Drive

We played the flash drive that night in the apartment on Seventy-fourth Street.

There was one audio file on it, dated six years ago, from the study of Lawson's father.

I sat on the couch with my knees drawn up, and Jonas stood behind me with his hand on the cushion.

The old man's voice came first, dry and patient.

"Wyndham is dying, and the company dies with him. Starve their credit this quarter and let the banks do the rest."

"And the daughters?" Lawson said.

I heard my husband's voice at twenty-seven, bored and clear.

"The elder will be a widow of her family by spring. Marry her once the old man is buried."

"She signs whatever is put in front of her. I've watched her sign for charity."

"And the sick one?"

"Keep her alive and keep her in a room," Lawson said. "A frightened sister is a leash."

The file ended.

I did not say anything for a long time.

Jonas did not move his hand, and he did not touch me.

"He picked me before the funeral," I said at last. "He picked the leash first."

"Yes," Jonas said.

"Marissa must have heard that tape and kept it for herself."

"She kept it for the day he left her."

I laughed once, a dry sound, and it hurt.

"There's something else," Jonas said, and I turned my head.

He came around the couch and put his phone on the table.

"This is the witness's file," he said. "I found the friend three days ago. He gave me the original."

"You found him without telling me."

"I'm telling you now, before I do anything with it. That's the rule."

He pressed play.

The film was a short clip of my old hallway at dawn, shot from a stair landing.

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