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He’s not usually so irritable, but our mate has gotten under his skin.
I think he’s all twisted up over the way she rushed out of here and yelled at him.
He probably thinks it means she doesn’t like him.
He should be more worried about how easily she noticed him tailing her, but that’s a lesson for another time, when other issues are less pressing.
Echo comes out of the file room with the Anchor West master file.
It’s one of the biggest files we have. Fifteen years of investigation.
Everything hinges on one small object that Harlan has hidden away in his office.
I could have attempted to find a way to get to it sooner.
I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would do anything for the right kind of money.
Unfortunately, finding someone trustworthy has been a lot less simple.
The jar is the single most important part. If we can find it and get it to the police, we have proof of what Harlan’s been doing. The most important piece of evidence being my mother’s necklace.
It’s a unique piece, hand crafted and recognizable from the photographs I have.
The man who gave it to my mother made it for her.
I don’t expect the jar to instantly lead to a conviction, of course, but it’s the only real, solid proof that exists to show what Harlan’s been doing for years.
No cop can deny that kind of evidence.
At least, no clean cop can.
There are more than a few dirty ones in his pockets. They’ve been easy to identify.
Having them arrested by clean superior officers will be my pleasure, but it needs to be done strategically because there’s always a chance one of their dumb cop buddies could believe their bullshit and try to ruin everything.
“You’ll need a chair,” I tell Echo as I take the file out of his hands.
“We’re having a meeting?” Echo asks, raising an eyebrow.
I take a breath and push a smile to my lips.
“Spencer was right. We should all be together on this.”
He blinks at me, before he moves behind the reception desk. “Chair, right.”
He does something on the computer before he lifts the chair up and brings it through the door.
It’s a tight squeeze, but the chair makes it.
Toshi comes back from the reception area. “Door’s locked, and the closed sign is up.”
I nod. “Everyone get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Toshi
All five of us are gathered around a 15-inch laptop screen, getting a tour of the inside of the Anchor West building from the perspective of a cleaning cart. It’s definitely not what I thought I’d be spending my evening doing, but to be honest, it’s not too far away from watching Spencer and Echo make out on the couch upstairs while I try to ignore how badly my pants are stretching out while I pretend to be watching whatever shit they put on the TV before they started making out.
