Wolf crouched beside the photographs again.
“You think he figured out Mercer’s people were dirty?”
Ava exhaled slowly.
“I think he figured out someone inside was feeding information out.”
Trigger frowned.
“So what exactly was he collecting?”
Ava looked toward the empty section of the box.
“Names.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Cold settled in my chest.
“No…”
Hersh moved closer beside me instantly.
Solid warmth against my side.
Grounding me before I completely spiraled.
Ava continued carefully.
“Your father probably started writing things down once he realized the same people kept appearing around the house.”
The memories came rushing back now.
Dad sitting silently at the kitchen table late at night.
Writing in small notebooks.
Closing them whenever I walked in.
Oh my God.
“He had notebooks,” I whispered.
Every head turned toward me immediately.
“What kind?” Wolf asked.
“I don’t know.” My pulse started pounding harder. “Small black ones. He carried one everywhere.”
Trigger’s expression darkened.
“And where are those notebooks now?”
I stared at the emptyspace in the box.
